


Live, Love, Lose

by Littlecherryblossom26



Series: Blood, Tears and Farewells [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Coming of Age, F/M, Gay Male Character, Historical, I don't really know what to put in the tags so I guess it'll have to do, M/M, Original Fiction, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 81,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27883924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlecherryblossom26/pseuds/Littlecherryblossom26
Summary: April 1940, Denmark.Karl Nielsen is a 17-year-old boy who has been helping his parents at the familial farm from an early age on a small island on the west coast of Denmark. However, his life shatters the day when Germans invade Denmark and arrive where they live. His father still manages to send him on a boat for England before the Nazis can take him away.In a country he has never been to before, he will have to survive on his own right in the middle of the madness of the war.Will he manage to make it through despite all the hardships he will have to face?Well, read to find out.
Series: Blood, Tears and Farewells [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041675
Comments: 51
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!!! :)
> 
> It's been quite a while since I last published here, and I'm so happy to be finally back! But I'm also anxious because I'm finally publishing my first original work...😰 even though I'm excited! Oh gosh 😅 
> 
> Anyway, don't mind me. It took me several long months to finish it, but I wanted to be sure to finish it before publishing anything. It's been months of doubts, depression, suffering, tears, anxiousness, but also moments of laughs and happiness. I've dedicated so much of my time to it, it seems crazy. 
> 
> I really want to thank @Sweety_Mutant for starting to proofread what I wrote and for being there when I needed someone to talk to. Thank you so so much, dear 🥰 I also want to thank you @lcpl_westbury for your admirable patience. I know you were excited to read it, so I really hope you won't be disappointed and that the long wait will be worth it in the end.
> 
> Let's say that it's only a first version of the story and that I may edit it after I finish publishing everything. I'd like to have some feedback so I can improve it :) Constructive criticism is always welcome ^^:) So don't hesitate to comment!
> 
> I wanted to publish one chapter a week, but then I realised it would take me a whole year to publish everything, and it's way too long for me 😨 So I've decided to publish one chapter every day, it will be much simpler this way. I think I'll publish every evening.
> 
> Well, now I think I've 'talked' enough, so that'll be all ^^ 
> 
> I just really hope you'll like reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it 😊
> 
> (P.S: I think I suck too to find good titles 😅)

“If you are going through hell, keep going.”  
― Winston Churchill

~ 

_April 1940_

“This time, I’m gonna do it.”

Karl had a fierce determination in his eyes as he said that, the tone in his voice matching it perfectly. He came closer to the thing that had been his arch enemy for so long.

“This time I’m gonna empty the manure pit without running away after less than one minute spent in it.”

He had always found it disgusting, as far as he could remember. Well, could possibly like such a thing. Only pigs did.

He took a deep breath and went down in it. It took him everything he had in him not to throw out and to resist. Well, it would make some more fertiliser if he did. Even though he doubted its quality.

He thought he would never see the end of it, but he finally finished he felt so proud of himself for keeping true to his word. He didn’t give up. He kept going until the end.

He had to tell his parents about it. He went to look for them. They mustn’t have been that far anyway. As he was walking in the direction of their house, he saw a group of men walk away, but they were not near enough to notice his presence. He wondered who they were, and what they could be doing here. They were definitely not farmers, let alone people from the village. Or else he would have recognised them.

He looked away from them as he kept walking, still looking for his parents. He found them near their barn. It looked like they were having a conversation. Was it about the men he had just seen?

He stopped in his tracks and observed them from a distance. They looked grave and concerned, even from a distance it wasn’t hard to notice. After a while, they both became silent, frozen in their respective spots, avoiding each other’s gaze rather awkwardly.

What could they be waiting for?

Even if he couldn’t hear what they had just said, since he hadn’t moved from his spot, he could still sense that something was off. He wasn’t stupid.

He decided to come closer to them as he saw they weren’t willing to speak anymore or to move. Their lack of reaction was intriguing. He needed to know what was on.

“What’s up? Who are these men?” He asked quizzically as soon as he was near them. 

But his parents didn’t reply. They just looked at him with concerned looks on their faces, especially his father. Even when she looked worried, his mother still seemed to have a stern look on her face. 

Karl looked back at them intently, his gaze going back and forth from his father to his mother. 

He waited for a little bit before speaking up again. 

“I have a right to know,” he said, his tone being a mix of firmness and slight hesitation, fearing he might have been scolded by his parents for daring to say that in such a tone.

He noticed his mother’s features becoming harder and his father’s brow furrowing. 

“I…” he uttered hesitantly. 

“Just go inside,” his father demanded, “farm work is over for today.”

To say that Karl was surprised by his father’s statement was an understatement. But he didn’t dare discuss his father’s decision. 

He looked down at his feet before giving a last look at his parents and turning away to leave swiftly. 

Once he was inside their house, he went to his room, deeming it was the best thing to do in this rather awkward situation. Once he was inside, he closed the door and kept walking until he reached his bed and sat on the edge of it. It was far from being a comfortable bed but it was better than sleeping on the hard floor. His room was quite empty, bare, and not that big, without any furniture to fill this void. He just had a small bed to sleep in which was placed against the wall opposite the door, and that’s all he needed. The only use of a room like this for him was to be able to sleep and nothing else. The walls were white, but not a clean and pure white, but rather a dirty white, proving that this room was really far from being brand new (there were even some cracks in the walls), and there was a single window located on the wall opposite to where the headboard of his bed was. There weren’t any curtains or shutters to hide the moonlight at night, but Karl didn’t mind that at all. 

He just didn’t know what to do now, so he just remained silent and still on his bed, like a serious and disciplined schoolboy, his hands resting on his lap. He was so used to toiling in the farm and field most of the days that he didn’t know how to keep himself busy with anything else. 

He just stared at the door blankly as if waiting for his parents to come in. 

Anyway, at some point, he could hear some noise, which could only be his parents’ voices. 

Shortly after he had gone to his room, his parents had entered the house as well, and his father had started to gather some things to pack them hastily into some sort of linen bag, unbeknownst to Karl. The said boy stood up from his bed to get near the door and opened it as discreetly and slowly as possible so it was slightly ajar. 

“You can’t do that!!!” He could hear his mother shout angrily. 

He couldn’t really see what was happening but hearing it was already enough. 

“We have no choice, Inge!!! Don’t you understand??!!! That’s the only viable solution I’ve found!!”

“Of course we have a choice!!! Don’t say such silly things!!! You’ve completely lost your mind, my poor Aleksander!!! We can’t send our son to England!!! He will know no one there, he will have nowhere to live, and he does not even speak English!!! He will never survive on his own there!!!”

“I’d rather send my own son to a foreign country which he doesn’t know at all rather than let those nasty Nazis take him away,” his father replied in a stern tone, a tone that almost sounded threatening. “At least, England and its peoples don’t share the Nazis’ ideals. Do you hear me, Inge? Over my dead body, I will never let that happen!!!”

“I wish you could hear yourself speak… Why do you hate the Nazis so much? They won’t do anything to Karl, they won’t hurt him! They may have ideals that you don’t like, but it’d be safer for Karl to go with them rather than for him to be lost in a country full of people we don’t know and cannot trust. Okay, our country has been annexed, and we have no other choice than to accept it and live with it now! Why should Karl run away? It’s still his country and roots. He was born here and if he has to die, he will die here!!!” 

“You really don’t understand, do you? They will send him to Germany, and maybe God knows where!!! Now that they have annexed Denmark, they won’t stop there!!! They will go on until they reach France and maybe further away!!!! Do you really want our own son to become one of them??!! A merciless and heartless soldier who kills innocent people for an absurd cause?!

“What are you talking about-”

“Stop!!!! Just stop, Inge!!! There’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. He’s my son and he will go to England whether you like it or not!!!!!!”

His father was so angry that even his wife who was usually so bossy was afraid and didn’t dare reply anything back. She was definitely not used to seeing her husband act that way. 

“He will leave the house tonight. I’ll ask some guys I know to take him there. I guess some Danes will want to flee Denmark as well now that it’s been annexed. To fight to free it,” he was much calmer as he said that, but his tone was still extremely stern and grave. “Our army isn’t powerful enough to do anything against them. We’ve never been a warriors’ peoples. Our ancestors were though, but time has passed since.”

Shortly after he said that Karl closed his door all of a sudden before leaning against it with an unreadable look on his face. 

This was definitely all too sudden. 

Once the sun had set, Karl’s father accompanied him to the boat which he was to go aboard for the voyage to England. The sea looked even more beautiful after the sunset. It wasn’t completely dark yet, and the sky offered a wonderful show of pastel colors that reflected on the sea. 

The boat had a reasonable size. It wasn’t too big or too small either, and it could welcome at least a dozen people on its board. The place where it was moored couldn’t really be considered as a harbor; it was more like a sort of inlet. 

When they arrived near the boat, a man was already waiting for them. Karl’s father approached him and shook hands with him as they both smiled at each other. He seemed to be well acquainted with him. 

Karl kept a little bit away from them, but he could still hear them talk. 

“Thank you again for taking my son with you.”

The other man nodded at his father. 

“No problem. But… if I may ask, why aren’t you and your wife leaving with him?”

“Simply because we can’t. We can’t abandon our house and our small piece of land, even if that’s not much. That’s all we possess… But don’t worry, Karl is a big boy now, he will be able to manage on his own. He doesn’t need us anymore. I have faith in him,” he said his last sentence while glancing at his son with a hint of pride in his voice. 

The other man nodded again. 

“Alright. Then you should bid farewell to him so we can leave.”

Aleksander nodded and once he did, the other male turned away to go aboard the boat to get ready for the departure. He didn’t want to depart too late. 

Aleksander turned around and approached his son. 

He stared into his son’s eyes intently before taking a hold of his shoulders. Karl was quite tall for a boy his age (he was practically six feet tall), but his father was still taller than him. Men in the family were said to be quite tall, well, at least on his father’s side. He had a grave look plastered on his face which was somehow making Karl worried. 

“Listen, Karl, I know that my decision may look a bit brutal to you, but I swear that I’m doing this for your own good. Don’t think we’re getting rid of you or something like that; because that’s not true at all. No matter whatever ordeal you will have to face, I know you will overcome all of them with brio; because you are our son. My son. And don’t worry, we’ll see each other again. I just don’t know how long it will take until you can come back home. Never forget that you have Danish blood flowing into your veins, so don’t fear, resist and fight back if you have to.”

Karl remained silent, apparently too upset to reply anything. This moment of silence lasted for a short while until Aleksander suddenly let go of his son’s shoulders to hug him tightly. It seemed that Karl hadn’t expected him to do such a thing. He didn’t hug his father back right away. 

“I love you, my son,” His father whispered almost desperately, now being on the brink of tears. 

Soon enough, Karl could feel tears starting to well up in his eyes as well. He bit his lower lip hard so he could hold them back. 

Boys didn’t cry, especially those with Danish blood, descendants of the Viking people, warriors.

But even his father who was a man was unable to hold his own tears back. So he just did the same. Without even realizing it, a fresh tear began rolling down his freckled cheek, and then another, and again another one. They just wouldn’t stop falling. 

And now he was sneezing. He hugged his father back just as tightly, looking ready not to let go of him. Deep down, he didn’t want to leave his family. Especially not his father. Not like that. 

“Remember: always stay strong and never forget that we love you,” his father whispered in between sobs, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. 

Karl nodded weakly. He knew he had no other choice. He couldn’t not leave. He couldn’t disobey his father. 

He had trouble swallowing his own saliva, and thought he might have thrown up, hadn’t his father been there to comfort him. He closed his eyes before letting out a shaky breath. 

“I love you too…” he whispered back feebly. 

It was heart-wrenching for his father to see his son so sad and upset. It made him want to cry even more, but he had to set a good example for his son. 

Karl tried to blink his tears away as his father pulled away to wipe his own tears with his forearm. They were blurring his vision by now. 

His father took a hold of his shoulders once again.

“You’ll be okay, son,” he whispered, trying to sound confident again. “Now, it’s time for you to go.”

Karl decided to wipe his tears away with his hand. He just nodded at his father’s words, not really knowing what he could reply. 

The man who Aleksander had shaken hands with earlier was observing them from the main deck of the boat as he was smoking a cigarette, leaning on the railing of it. 

Aleksander gave his son a rueful smile. 

“See you,” he just said with hope echoing through those two words. 

Karl nodded once again. 

“See you,” he replied, keeping on a neutral face. 

He remained standing still for a few instants as if he didn’t know what to do now. A small strained smile suddenly made its way on his face. Afterward, he turned away to go aboard the boat with his linen pack on his back. Once he was on the main deck, he glanced one last time at his father who hadn’t moved from his spot. 

Soon enough, they left the coast and sailed away. 

Aleksander watched the boat go in sheer silence, the boat that was taking his son away from him; only the soft breeze whistling in his ears could be heard. 

He could feel a single tear rolling down his left cheek.

It was a new life that awaited his 17-year-old son.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip to England

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> So I hope you liked the first chapter :) 
> 
> Before I forget, for your information it won't be a 'love at first sight story', it'll be a slow burn story, so it will take time before anything happens (I don't like it when it goes too fast).  
> And I think that's all I wanted to say.
> 
> Here you go with the second chapter :) (It's shorter than the first one btw)
> 
> Just a reminder: please don't hesitate to comment to let me know what you think of the story so far. Comments always make my day 🥰
> 
> Please stay safe and take care ❤️

The night soon began to fall. Ever since they had started sailing away, Karl had been leaning on the railing of the boat, staring at the horizon with a pensive look plastered on his face. 

There were some other men besides himself and the man who had talked to his father, but they were on the other side of the boat, chatting, and they would even laugh from time to time. They were probably telling funny stories. 

At some point, the man approached him and went to stand next to him, on his left. 

Karl just glanced at him in silence as he heard his footsteps. He seemed to be way too engrossed in what he was staring at to pay any attention to anyone or anything. 

The man simply looked at him in silence.

“I guess it mustn’t be easy to be separated from your family in such circumstances,” he ended up saying solemnly, breaking the weighty silence. 

He looked as if he was in his late thirties, and had sandy hair as well as grey eyes. 

He just wanted to try to comfort the boy in his own way. But Karl didn’t feel like talking to another human being right now, especially not about that. 

It was easy for the man to figure that out. 

“You know, You’ll really have to toughen up if you want to survive on your own in a foreign place. I’m not saying that you are too weak or anything, so no offense. But I know for a fact that we tend to be very easily overwhelmed by our emotions, and this can be a real problem sometimes. I just want you to be aware that we won’t help you once we land in England. I mean we won’t stay with you to watch you.”

“I know,” Karl replied stoically after a few seconds of silence. 

There was another moment of silence between them which lasted for a few minutes until Karl drew himself up, removing his arms from the railing. He turned around so he was fully facing the other man. 

“How long will it take us to get to England?” He asked curiously. 

He had never travelled so far in his life before. He had only travelled once to go and visit his eldest sister who was living in Copenhagen with her husband and children. His elder brother had left home to move to Copenhagen but later than their sister. Well, living in a big city was certainly much better than staying to live on a farm in the countryside, a place that no one knew about somewhere in the middle of nowhere. 

“It will depend on the weather. But I can already tell you that it won’t just take one day. So I hope you’re not seasick.”

“I’ve already been on a boat before. So I should be fine.”

“Good to hear.”

Silence again.

“There is a cabin that was prepared for you if you want to get some sleep. I think you’ll need it,’ the man spoke up after a short while, breaking it again. 

“Thank you. But I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” he answered in a low voice. 

The man waited a few seconds before replying. 

“Well, it’s up to you. I just wanted to let you know that you can go there anytime.”

Karl nodded. 

“Thanks.”

The man nodded back at him. 

“Have you had something to eat?”

Karl shook his head no. 

“But I’m not really hungry either…”

“You won’t make it through if you start to starve yourself.”

Karl glanced at the sea. 

“I’m not hungry tonight, but I’ll eat something tomorrow.”

The man nodded. 

“Once again, it’s up to you. I won’t force you to eat or anything if you don’t feel like it.”

Karl remained silent. 

“Well, enjoy your night then,” the man added. 

Karl nodded before the man moved away to go and join the other men. The boy then resumed what he had done a few moments earlier, that is contemplate the horizon. He looked up to peer at the sky. It was full of stars and the moon was shining brightly, so much so that it was reflecting itself on the dark water of the sea. It was so peaceful. 

Karl thought it would make him forget what was happening to him momentarily. 

The crossing lasted two days and a half only. Karl was under the impression that it was much longer though. Maybe it was because he had been somehow impatient to see what England was like. 

As they were nearing the land, Karl went to see the man who was actually the captain of the ship and whose name was Artur. 

“When are we going to get there?” He inquired. 

“Don’t be so impatient. We’ll get there in an hour or so. We’ll land in Hull.”

“Hull?” 

Karl had never heard this name before. 

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And what am I supposed to do there?” Karl then asked him. 

“I don’t know. Remember that I told you we wouldn’t stay with you. We can’t. Your father was the one to decide to send you there after all. He didn’t tell me anything precise about what you should do once you got there.”

“Is it big? Is it a city or a town?” 

“It’s a port city. It’s not the biggest one but it’s not the smallest one either.”

This piece of information wasn’t really helping Karl… He started thinking seriously about what he should do once he set foot on the English land. 

“Your father should have planned your departure much more carefully. I don’t mean to criticize him or anything, but it was really decided in a rush, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, I guess so…” he replied thoughtfully. 

“Can’t blame him though. We live on an isolated island and it’s not as if he could have planned what just happened. And he just wanted to protect you. It’s something that any good father would do.”

Karl didn’t say anything. He guessed the guy was right. Still, that wasn’t helping him any better… 

“Do you know why they did that?” 

That was the real disadvantage of living in an isolated place where you did nothing but farm; not knowing what was happening in the outside world. He had been living in an isolation bubble for the last seventeen years of his life. And because of that, Karl had never had the chance to get a proper education. 

He was just a poor farm boy. 

“Because Hitler is a fucking madman and a tyrant that wants to take over the whole world to impose his fucking ideology.”

Of course, his father and mother knew at least who the Nazis were, they weren’t completely ignorant; he should have known. They would just keep their son in the dark, certainly deeming he didn’t need to trouble his brain with such things, at least that’s what he presumed.

“What ideology?” 

Artur could clearly see the boy had no clue what he was talking about. 

“He wants to eliminate every person he doesn’t consider as “pure”.”

“Pure?” 

“Yes, “pure”, that means people that are a part of the Aryan race. Basically, the Aryans are people just like you. Tall, physically fit, pale skin, not disabled, and blond with blue eyes.”

Karl was left speechless by the man’s answer. 

“I guess you understand better now why your father sent you away so hurriedly,” he added after a few moments of silence. 

Of course, it all made sense to the boy now. 

He just wished his parents could have left with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of the trip...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> Here's another chapter, longer than the second one but still shorter than the first one. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it :)

Soon enough, they arrived in Hull's harbor. Before they even dropped anchor, Karl was already ready to leave the boat. He got off of it rather quickly, eager to finally get back onto dry land, so much so that he even forgot to thank the man that had taken him there. 

It felt somehow weird for him to set foot on a land that wasn’t his, but it was intriguing at the same time. 

Artur got off the boat shortly after he did, and went to stand beside him. 

“It may not look as nice as Denmark, but you’ll have to get used to it from now on,” he told Karl. 

Of course, Karl was very well aware of that. He took a few steps forward as if to experience for the very first time what it was like to walk on foreign ground. He looked straight ahead of him. They weren’t alone in the harbor, there were some Englishmen present as well. Everything looked calm and peaceful. 

He turned around and approached Artur. 

“Well, looks like our ways part here,” the other man told him. 

“Thanks for everything,” Karl replied with a tiny but genuine smile. 

Artur nodded at him. 

“Mind yourself.”

It was Karl’s turn to nod this time. 

“I will.”

Shortly afterward, he turned around again to leave for good, intending to explore the city. After he had, he would think more in detail about what he would do. 

He walked away at a steady pace, neither too fast, nor too slow, taking a good look at his surroundings. But as he was still within earshot, Artur called after him. 

“Wait!”

His shouting made Karl stop in his steps and he turned around swiftly. Artur caught up with him. 

“Even if I can’t stay with you the whole time you’ll be living here, I can still give you a hand while I can. Just follow me.”

Karl said nothing and simply did as he was told. 

They walked for a while until they reached a train station. They kept walking until they got near the different trains that were present. 

“Even if you don’t have any money, you can still take a train that’ll take you to London. If you are to stay here for a long time, you might as well go and look for a place to live in a more attractive city than Hull,” Artur told him. 

Karl pondered over his words for a little while. He guessed the man was right and decided to take his advice. 

“Thank you for helping me.”

Artur gave him a small lopsided smile. 

“You already thanked me a few moments ago, boy. Now it’s this one you have to take to go to London. It’s a direct one,” he said pointing at the train he was referring to. 

“How do you know that?”

“I have my tips,” the older man answered with a smirk. 

Karl stared at him with an earnest look on his face. 

“It’s not the first time you’ve come here, is it?”

“Hey, I’m a sailor, son, and a merchant. So I know other places than Denmark.”

Karl nodded. Of course, that was very logical. 

“Well, now it’s time for us to bid farewell for good this time,” Artur then added. 

“Yes.”

“Good luck,” he said before extending his hand. 

Karl took it and shook it. 

“Thank you.”

A few moments later, the young Dane was hopping the freight train that Artur had shown him and got on a gondola car at the back of it without being seen. 

He removed his pack from his shoulder and put it down next to him as he was sitting down at one end of the gondola. There wasn’t actually much inside of it. Just a bit of food so he wouldn’t starve for the few first days and a small wool blanket so he could wrap it around himself in order not to be cold in case of bad weather. Even if it was springtime, it could still rain. 

He stared at it for a moment before he chose to hug his knees to his chest. He thought about his parents. And then his brother and sister. He wondered what they were doing now, if they were alright, tried to imagine what they were thinking about if they were thinking at all, but he was no mind-reader, especially not from such a long distance. 

The trip lasted around four hours. It was about noon by the time he got to London. 

He hopped off his gondola and walked toward the exit of the train station. It was rather crowded and he wasn’t really used to crowded spaces. 

He decided to explore the city since he had nothing better to do, just like he had wanted to do in Hull. There was no farm work anymore for him. It felt strange. He really was like a tourist in a foreign country, except that he was penniless… 

His top priority, for now, was to find a place to sleep for tonight at least. 

He thought about finding a job to make a living, but he didn’t speak a single word of English... so it would be complicated for him to find one…

And he didn’t know anybody who could put him up. And certainly, no one would accept to put up a foreigner and a stranger in their home. 

Besides, now that he thought about it, he couldn’t do anything else other than doing farming chores. And he was in London… not in the countryside anymore…

He didn’t even know which way to go first… so he just took a random direction and wandered aimlessly in the busy and lively London streets. It was nothing like where he lived. But it wasn’t that unpleasant. 

He actually took the South direction, and after walking for a very long while he ended up reaching the Thames river. He had gone through Covent Garden and stopped walking to stare at the river. The sun was shining on it. There were only a few clouds in the sky. Otherwise, the sky was blue. 

It was different from the sea, yet it was similar at the same time. After he kept staring at it for a while he decided to go and find a spot to sit cross-legged on the ground at the edge of the river so as to eat a bit of his food. He had to save as much of it as he could if he didn’t want to starve fast. 

He didn’t even have any water to drink… His father really must have packed his things really in a rush… he could survive for a bit without food, but not without any water…. 

He was able to have some water while he had been on the boat. Artur must have thought he already had some in his bag. And they had had just enough water for their voyage… 

He could already feel his throat being dry. He was used to not drinking that much, just the bare minimum so he wouldn’t die of thirst. He would even spend sometimes a whole day without drinking either water or milk. His parents always had said to him that water was a precious good which they didn’t have the luxury to have in abundance and so which they couldn’t drink in excess. Besides, they needed water for other uses than for drinking. 

But now that he was here, in a different country with different people, he felt a sudden urge to drink. He bit his lower lip as if to try to resist this sudden urge. But it seemed to be in vain. 

He thought about drinking the water from the Thames. But after second thought, he preferred not to try. Mainly because there were people everywhere, having a stroll, so he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. People would probably give him weird looks if he tried to do that. Moreover, he didn’t want to take the risk to be poisoned by the water.

He couldn’t even ask anyone for water...

People probably didn’t carry flasks of water around while they were out, and it was still the same problem... He didn’t even know how to say “water” in English, such a simple word, and Englishmen and women were very unlikely to understand the Danish language. Plus, he couldn’t even afford to buy some. So he just did without it, and ignored his dry throat.

Or maybe his father had just thought people would be kind enough to offer him some water, that they would have pity for a poor boy like him that didn’t possess anything except his pack. He shook that thought out of his mind and ended up uncrossing his legs before standing up and slung his bag across his right shoulder. 

He resumed wandering around the city and didn’t stop until the sunset. He ended up arriving in a park, but he couldn't tell which. He resolved to sleep in this park for tonight. He found a spot in the fresh grass where he was sure he wouldn’t be disturbed and sat on it before he laid onto it, putting his arms behind his head of blond curls. 

Fortunately for him, it wasn’t wintertime.

He kept doing that for several days continuously: wandering into the London streets and sleeping out in the open, usually in parks whenever he could. He would drink whatever water he could find: in fountains, rivers, puddles. 

One night, he was sleeping in some back alley in the heart of the city centre. 

However, when he woke up the next morning, he wasn’t in that back alley anymore…


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where do you think he is now...? 
> 
> if I sum up, for me it means mainly spoiling, so I'd rather stay as vague as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :)
> 
> I hope y'all doing well. I've just finished writing the first chapter of the second part today. That's a great achievement for me. But I'm so tired and busy with work...😓 Sometimes I just wish I could have a long holiday, stay at home and do nothing but write 😅 Anyway, I don't want to bother you with my boring life. 
> 
> Here you go with the fourth chapter! :)

Obviously, he wasn’t outside anymore.

He was met with the sight of a creamy ceiling adorned with yellow stripes. He began panicking for some unknown reason. He swiftly sat up and his eyes fell upon a rather large window which was right at the centre of a wooden wall. There were long white curtains that were drawn and which weren’t opaque at all, letting in all of the bright morning sunlight, and other ones that were tied to each side of the window. They were white as well, but unlike the first ones mentioned, they had green and pale red motifs that looked like flowers on them.

Karl turned his head to the left. His eyes were met with a light brown wallpaper adorned with floral motifs, bouquets of flowers. He then looked down at his lap. He noticed a white sheet, as well as a maroon woolen blanket, had been covering him. He also noticed the bed he had been sleeping in was more comfortable than his old bed back at home. 

He resolved to get out of that bed, pulled the sheet and cover off of him, and shifted his position so his feet touched the floor. It was a dark green carpet that was feeling fluffy under his calloused feet. They were bare. He scanned the rest of the room carefully but he couldn’t spot either his shoes or socks. He still had his shirt and pants on though. He soon realised he couldn’t spot his linen bag either. 

Beside the bed which was against the wall just like his own, there was a single and big wooden wardrobe on the wall opposite the window. 

The room was awfully quiet. So much so it was almost frightening. 

How couldn’t he have realised he had been brought there? 

He really couldn’t explain it. 

He remained still for a while, frozen in his spot. He swallowed thickly at some point before he finally stood up and made his way towards the door which was closed. He looked at it for a few seconds, still like a statue before he blinked at it. He slowly reached out for the knob before turning it. He let the door ajar and peeped at the hall, trying to look for any sign of life. 

But the hall was dead quiet as well, so he opened the door fully and exited the room. He looked at his left and then at his right and then made his way towards the stairs. His eyes fell upon the main entrance once he was downstairs. His gaze then shifted to the other hall. He took careful and slow steps as he crossed it. As he was moving forward he could hear voices speaking that were becoming more and more distinct as he was still walking, though he couldn’t understand what they were saying. 

He kept moving until he reached what he supposed was the kitchen. He stopped in the doorframe and quickly noticed the people that were inside of it. There were two men sitting opposite each other at a wooden table, big enough to have six people, and a woman who was cooking at the stove. One of the men looked rather old. He must have been in his mid-fifties while the other one looked much younger, perhaps in his mid-twenties or late twenties. The eldest one was reading some newspaper.

Karl didn’t dare do anything, yet he told himself he had to. He couldn’t remain frozen like that in the doorframe. 

So he simply cleared his throat. 

The two men looked in his direction shortly before the woman stopped what she was doing and turned around to gaze at him. 

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” she said with a bright smile on her lips. 

Karl just blinked at her blankly. Of course, he couldn’t understand a single word of what she had just said. 

There was a rather awkward silence that followed her words, at least it was for Karl. 

“What were you doing sleeping all alone out on the streets? Those streets at night are not that safe, you know,” the woman said, breaking the silence with a concerned look on her face. “What about your parents? What happened?”

Karl was just left speechless with impassive eyes.

“Jeg er dansk,” he ended up saying, guessing they wouldn’t understand, but he didn’t know what else he could say.

_I’m Danish._

And indeed, they didn’t understand. They were just staring at him with unreadable looks on their faces. They must have thought he was some homeless English boy. 

“Jeg ikke er engelsk,” he added in a low voice, sounding somehow worried and sad. 

_I’m not English._

Silence. 

It seemed to be never-ending, and it was making Karl feel more and more uncomfortable with each second that passed.

“Just come and have a seat,” the eldest man finally said with a nice accent. 

But Karl just raised one eyebrow. 

“Come,” he repeated as he gestured for the boy to approach them. 

Karl blinked again. This word sounded strangely familiar, like the one they used in Danish. It wasn’t exactly the same pronunciation though. 

He did as he was told and took a step forward before he made his way towards the table. He didn’t know where he should sit. He eyed the two empty seats next to the two men. 

He eventually chose to sit down beside the youngest one, whom he guessed was the eldest man’s son. 

The eldest man never looked away from him as he had moved, even now as he was sitting down. Karl looked down at his lap before he glanced up at the man across the table. He smiled at Karl, a small but soft smile. 

For some unknown reason, he didn’t dare stare into the man’s eyes, as if he were afraid of him.

“Here, this is for you,” the man’s wife told him in a sweet tone as she put down a plate in front of him, even if she knew he couldn’t understand English. “You must be starving.”

“Tak,” Karl replied ("thank you") as he glanced up at her.

The woman smiled at him gently. 

“Anytime, dear.”

She then went back to the kitchen counter to grab him a fork and knife and approached him again to give them to him.

“Tak,” Karl said again, earning another smile from the woman. 

There were boiled eggs, beans, tomatoes, and two slices of bacon on his plate. Karl was used to not eating most mornings and would usually make up for it with lunch or dinner times. 

After all, he didn’t come from an upper-class family.

But he was curious to taste that food. Yet, at the same time, some part of him was telling him to be wary.

Why would strangers be so nice to him? 

Well, they probably only just felt pity toward him. 

He stared at his plate blankly for a little while. Soon, the woman sat down next to her husband.

Even if they were well aware that he couldn’t understand their language, they seemed to be unwilling to speak about him while he was there with them, especially the woman actually. 

“You should eat before it gets cold,” the woman advised him, looking concerned once again. 

Karl looked up again to stare at her. He took the opportunity to examine her thoroughly. 

She had short dark blond hair that was smooth unlike his own and blue eyes with a tint of green. She looked like she was in her mid-fifties as well. She somehow reminded him of his own mother. Just in the looks, certainly not with her softness and smiles. 

She tried to mimic someone who would eat, so he could understand much more easily what she meant. And of course, Karl took the hint. 

He didn’t mean to offend any of them, so he took his fork and began eating some beans. 

The blond woman watched him eat with a warm look on her face like a mother would look at her son.

Everyone was silent, but it was a rather comfortable silence this time. Karl was solely focused on the food he was eating while the three of them were watching him. But the young Dane didn’t mind. 

He really liked it, and even though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, it was nice to have such a good breakfast in such a nice and warm house with such kind people. It felt like he had a family again. Even though those people were total strangers. It felt good to imagine that they could be like a family to him, to try to pretend that they were. 

Once he was done with eating his food, he finally dared stare into the man’s eyes. They were brown, a warm brown, and he was wearing glasses as well. His hair was brown, smooth, and neatly styled, but it was slowly starting to turn grey, especially on the sides. 

He was wearing a nice suit with a tie. Karl had never seen a man look so classy before. Or maybe once in Copenhagen, but he wasn’t really sure. Copenhagen’s streets were really busy. Maybe not as much as London’s. But it was overwhelming. When you come from the countryside, seeing all those people buzzing around is almost a shock. 

His gaze then shifted to the younger man who was sitting next to him. He looked pretty much like his father. He had brown, smooth hair that was styled into a quiff, warm brown eyes, but no glasses, and a suit with a tie similar to his father’s. And some of his facial features were somewhat similar to his mother’s. 

Karl quickly averted his eyes from him. He might have thought he was some sort of weirdo or something like that if his gaze lingered too long on him.

“Tak for måltidet,” he said as he looked again at the woman. (“Thanks for the meal”)

She smiled at him, showing her white teeth. 

Karl’s gaze remained focused on her for a bit. She seemed to be lost in thought, probably wondering why he was living on the streets, in a foreign country. And without anyone he knew. Well, that’s what he assumed. 

What else could she possibly be thinking of at that moment as she was staring intently into his blue eyes? 

“Paul, could you please show him the shower? After spending time on the street, he’d surely like to have a nice shower and will probably need some new clothes,” she asked her son. 

“Of course.”

Said man swiftly stood up and gestured for Karl to follow him. Karl did as told in silence and so they went upstairs.

Paul showed Karl the bathroom and the bathtub and went to look for a towel which he put on a stool near the sink. He then went to grab a set of clean clothes so his mother would be able to wash Karl’s old and worn-out ones. 

As Karl was waiting in the bathroom he joined him and extended the clothes to him. 

It was just hard for the boy to believe they were giving him clothes, to a boy they didn’t even know. He just felt like he couldn’t accept them. He was fine if he kept wearing his same old clothing. Even if it was dirty.

“Take them,” The English man said to him. 

Even if Karl couldn’t understand English, he must have guessed the boy wasn’t dumb. Gestures spoke more than words sometimes. 

The other male insisted with his gaze and gestures. 

“Jeg kan ikke acceptere…” (“I can’t accept…”)

“Of course you can.”

Karl remained motionless for a little while, and so did Paul. The younger lad ended up yielding and took the clothes from Paul’s hands. 

“Tak.” 

The brown-haired male smiled at him. 

“We say ‘thank you’ in our language.”

Karl gave him a puzzled look. 

“Thank you,” the other male repeated. 

Karl tried to pronounce it but the sound was unfamiliar to him, so he could only babble trying to reproduce it. 

The English male showed him how to make the sound properly as explicitly as possible. Karl tried to imitate him. 

“Or you can just say ‘thanks’. I guess it will be simpler.”

“Thanks…” Karl managed to utter still struggling a bit with his Danish accent. 

The man smiled at him again. 

“At least now you’ll know one word in English. And we’ll know one in your language.”

Karl smiled back at him, a small but genuine smile. 

“Thanks,” he repeated, sounding more confident this time, even though his pronunciation was not perfect. 

The man nodded at him. 

“You’re free to go and shower now. We’ll be downstairs,” he made the gesture to show ‘downstairs’. 

Karl nodded, and shortly afterward, Paul walked away, closing the door as he did so. 

The Danish boy stared at the door as if his feet were glued to the floor. 

All of this was so unexpected… Everything had happened so suddenly... One night he was sleeping on some street and the next morning he woke up in a strangers’ house. 

He wasn’t used to the unexpected, and this was somehow unnerving. He was used to living a life in which everything was already planned out, where things would always be the same. 

It may have been a monotonous life, but he enjoyed it. Well, he had learned to with time.  
Because he had always been so sure that he could never have any other kind of lifestyle. 

He let out a quiet sigh before putting down the clean set of clothes on the stool under the towel. Then he eventually decided to remove his clothes so he could bathe. He let them fall carelessly on the tiled floor. It’s not as if they were anything near expensive and stylish material. If anything, they were more like rags. 

They really had a nice bathroom. His family didn’t even have one back at home. Apparently, his parents considered it as something superfluous. Something “posh” that only upper-class people living in big cities possessed. Cities like Copenhagen. Come to think of it, his brother and sister possessed one (even if it was small) in their respective dwellings. They must have got tired of a decent lack of hygiene. Even though they never voiced it explicitly. 

Karl stepped into the bathtub and remained standing in it instead of sitting down. 

Even if he had never used a bathtub, it wasn’t complicated to make it work. The water soon started to run, soaking him entirely. It was cold at first, but it progressively turned warmer and warmer. He adjusted the temperature so it wouldn’t be too hot and burn him. 

He let the hot water stream down on his back as he closed his eyes. He let his muscles relax under the feeling of it.  
Yet, he didn’t wish to misspend their water. So he soon turned it off. 

He spotted a bar of soap placed on the edge of the white bathtub, against the tiled wall. He took it in one swift movement and started rubbing it against his body. He washed his whole body and rinsed it off, trying not to think about anything as he did. But in such circumstances, this wasn’t really easy. He then dried himself off before putting on the new set of clothes he was given. It was such a nice sensation.

His new clothes were similar to his old ones. It consisted of a white singlet, a white long-sleeved shirt whose sleeves he rolled up, suspenders, and a pair of brown trousers.

Karl didn’t take too long to bathe. He was used to doing things quickly and efficiently. Especially this kind of thing.

He left his old clothes on the stool near the bathtub and swiftly went downstairs and made his way back to the kitchen.

He had no idea what the small family was going to do with him. He just hoped that his good luck would last at least for a bit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some changes in POV in this chapter. It may be a bit confusing, so I'm sorry if it is... I tried to make it as clear as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening! :)
> 
> Another chapter! 
> 
> Well, I don't really know what to write... So I'm going to let you enjoy it ;)

Once Paul and the young boy were gone, the woman turned to her husband.

“Poor boy… I can’t imagine what he must have gone through…." the woman said with a sad expression plastered on her face. 

Her husband only looked at her with silent eyes, seemingly too thoughtful to say anything at the moment. 

She really wondered what could have happened to him; how such a young boy could have ended up becoming homeless in a country that was not his. This mere thought made her heart clench painfully.

Her motherly instinct made her want to protect him, to help him, reassure him.

She somewhat found him cute, and endearing, even though she had just met him. His boyish, angelic face, the way he sounded when he spoke with that accent and soft voice, and the way he looked so reserved and shy.

“We have to find his family and bring him back to them,” she said, looking quite determined, unlike her husband who was placid. 

There were a few seconds of silence before the man finally decided to open his mouth. 

“And how? Tell me. How are we supposed to do this? He does not speak a single word of English.”

“Yes, and that’s not quite normal,” the woman retorted. “Do you not find it weird that a foreign youth ends up sleeping on the streets all alone, without money and just a small pack in a foreign city?” the woman questioned. 

“He may just be lost.”

“Lost? But what about his family? And how did he get there in the first place? He did not end up here just by some miracle.”

“I do not know. I have not got the power to see things that happen elsewhere while I am simultaneously doing something else.”

The woman did not really appreciate her husband’s attitude on this precise matter. He seemed that he was not taking it seriously at all. 

“How can you be so dispassionate and unmoved over something so heartbreaking.”

Again, the man waited for a few seconds before answering. 

“Because I choose not to show my emotions doesn’t mean I’m not concerned about him,” he replied plainly.

It was true that her husband had his own way to deal with his feelings and emotions sometimes, which made him so unlike her. She tended to forget it sometimes, though she should not. 

And she could not reproach him with that.

“Which country do you think he comes from?” she asked him, a concerned look on her face. 

“Given his blond hair and blue eyes, and the language he speaks, it strongly restrains the different possibilities,” Paul replied as he entered the kitchen. 

His mother turned her head to look at him. 

“Yes, he is right,” his father agreed. 

“He must be from some Scandinavian country, I guess, but it’s harder to guess which one it is,” Paul then stated. 

“We should try to ask him to be sure,” his mother said. 

“When he’s done showering, we will,” Paul said. 

His mother nodded. 

*

“Here he is,” Karl heard the younger of the two men say as he came into view. 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He just felt like he was intruding. 

“Come, have a seat,” the mother said, patting the empty spot next to her husband. 

Karl hesitated, but he sat down nonetheless. It’s not that he didn’t want to sit down. But something was escaping him.

“Wait a minute,” Paul said before he left the kitchen again. 

He came back not that long after with a world globe in one hand. He put it down on the table near Karl. He then pulled one chair so he could sit next to the Danish lad. 

“Look,” Karl heard him say, and he guessed he was talking to him since he was looking at him and not his parents. But as he must have guessed that Karl didn’t speak English, it was probably more a way to get his attention.

He showed the globe with his hand. “We,” he pointed at himself with his index finger. “England,” he showed him the island still with his finger. 

Karl observed him earnestly in silence. 

“You” he then pointed at Karl and then at the globe. “Where are you from?”

And of course, as Karl was not stupid even though he wasn’t educated, he immediately understood what he wanted to know. 

“Danmark,” he replied before showing it on the globe. 

His response was followed by a moment of silence. 

“And what’s your name?” Paul ended up saying, breaking the silence. Karl guessed it was just a way to catch his attention again. 

The young Dane stared into his brown eyes, clueless. 

“Me,” Paul pointed again at himself, “Paul. You?” He pointed at the boy. 

And it was crystal clear for Karl.

“Karl.”

“Carl,” he repeated it with his English accent. 

Said boy nodded. It sounded a bit strange to hear his name being pronounced another way. But it sounded nice to his ears.

“Knowing how he got here will be another story…” he heard the young man say to his parents. 

He chose to look at the woman who had a concerned look plastered on her face. 

“For now we have enough information about him. We do not need to know any more,” the older man responded.

“But why are his not parents with him? Given his looks, I am pretty sure he is underage… Anything could have happened to him on the streets. He was really lucky you found him, Paul,” the woman spoke again. 

“We can’t judge them, Margaret. We have no idea what happened,” her husband replied, his voice grave.

Karl’s gaze shifted from the mother to the father. Since he couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying, he carefully observed their facial expressions. 

“Still…”

“Margaret.”

Said woman still had a disapproving look on her face. He just wished it wasn’t because of him.

He heard the man sigh.

“What should we do now? He is too young to work and have a proper job but he can’t go to school since he does not speak English,” he then heard the woman say.

“Maybe we could try to find someone that speaks both Danish and English. It would help us a lot,” Paul was then the one to speak, which sounded like a suggestion. “Otherwise, we will manage on our own; it’s alright if we don’t find anyone.”

Everyone’s eyes were on him. 

“Yes, we can still do that,” his mother replied.

“I’m going to go to the city centre to see if I can find anyone,” Paul spoke up again. 

His mother nodded.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. The sooner the better.”

Paul quickly left the house. Karl just nodded at him as a goodbye, although he heard the word, he preferred to remain silent. 

It’s not that he wasn’t willing to make some effort to communicate. But speaking a language that’s unknown to you wasn’t easy…

Yet, he had already tried with the word thanks. 

Once he was gone, his mother sat down on the chair he had been previously sitting on. She put her hand on Karl’s shoulder gently, in a reassuring way.

Karl stared into her greenish-blue eyes. 

“Me,” she pointed at herself, “Margaret. And this is my husband, Robert.”

Karl nodded silently.

It’s not as if he were going to call them by their first names anyway. This was not done. 

“Robert and Margaret Hopkins,” she added. “But no formalities. Just call us ‘Robert’ and ‘Margaret’.”

“He can’t understand what you are saying, Margaret,” the man said.

“I know he doesn’t. But I am not used to communicating with only isolated words and gestures.”

Mr. Hopkins didn’t reply.

“Come, we’re not going to stay in the kitchen all day long, are we?” Margaret then said to Karl, gesturing to said room. “Come,” she repeated enthusiastically.

She stood up and led the way. Karl watched her walk away and stood up as well to follow her before she could get out of sight.

The Danish boy noticed her husband didn’t follow. He assumed he must have remained sitting in his seat, probably to think. What else could he have done otherwise? 

Indeed, he remained still in his spot, letting his mind wander to different thoughts. 

*

The day actually went on smoothly. During most of it, Margaret tried to teach Karl some English words, at least she started. At some point, her husband observed them silently, seemingly having nothing better to do of his time. 

They ended up finding themselves alone in the hall as the sun was near setting. 

“You know, Margaret, I am not quite sure that your method is the best one to teach him,” he told her. 

He did not mean to be mean to her or to belittle her. The thing is that she showed the boy objects, various ones, that were displayed in the house and taught him the English word for them. 

But this wouldn’t really help him to communicate properly with the local people. 

Margaret’s features hardened. 

“Well, if you have a better one, please, show it to me,” she somehow said derisively, offended by her husband’s remark. 

“Do not take it that way, Margaret. I just think he needs to have a real grammar structure so he can truly try to communicate. Learning isolated words will not help him; I agree that vocabulary is important as well though. But if he can’t make a proper sentence, that is rather pointless.”

He could see in her eyes that she knew he had a point. A concerned look was visible on her face again. 

“I hope Paul could find someone that could help us.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you Mum, but I couldn’t,” the man said as he suddenly appeared before them. 

“Oh, what a shame…”

“That’s alright, Mum. Even if it takes a lot of time, we will teach him English ourselves. After all the best way to learn a language is to stay in the country with the locals, isn’t it?” Paul said optimistically. 

“Yes, but your mother will really have to modify her method,” his father said teasingly.

Margaret gave him a disapproving look, a look the man knew all too well. She just elbowed him with a stern look on her face. He knew it was just playful anyway. Or rather he found it amusing. He showed it with only a small smirk. 

He heard his son let out a small laugh, which earned the young man a slight nudge as well. 

“There is nothing funny in this, though,” she said, still looking stern. 

“Just calm down. You know there is nothing mean in it,” Robert replied somewhat lightheartedly. 

But this didn’t last though. One second later he looked quite grave and concerned as if he were about to announce someone they knew well had just passed away. 

“But enough with that. You know, I’ve been thinking about Carl’s situation, and I think I know why he ended up homeless in a foreign country all alone,” he stated.

“You do?” Margaret replied.

Robert nodded.

“The Nazis invaded and annexed Denmark not so long ago…” he explained. “On the 9th of April more precisely. But you both already know this, don’t you?”

Neither his wife nor his son said anything.

It was a heavy silence.

Margaret looked horrified while her son was trying to remain as neutral as possible, even though it seemed to be rather hard for him to try to hide his concern.

“And I bet his parents made him flee their home because they did not want their son to live in a country invaded by facists,” Robert ended up saying, breaking it.

Silence again.

“Do you… Do you think his parents are…” Margaret trailed off, unable to form a proper sentence, looking even more horrified at the thought.

“I don’t know. But sincerely, I hope not.”

The more it was silent, the more the atmosphere was becoming, eerie, spooky.

Margaret intertwined her fingers together as if she were about to pray.

“Come on, let’s not be so pessimistic. As long as we don’t know for sure, we can’t assume anything,” Paul spoke, certainly to try to cheer his mother up and make the general mood less tense.

His parents stared at him silently.

“And from now on we’ll be here for him, no matter what happens in the future,” He added.

His mother’s face was brightened up by that smile of hers which he liked so much. She was glad to hear her son say that, even proud. Robert could affirm that without any doubt. 

“Yes,” she replied somehow relieved, and Robert could picture her shaking out the horrible thoughts and possible scenarios from her head.

She tended to imagine the worst from time to time. Even when it wasn’t necessary. 

But that was something he had learnt to like about her. 

*  
Never had Karl thought that the woman would make him stay in their home, let alone that she would try to teach him their language. 

Even if he learnt and memorized a few words thanks to her, he realised that he wasn’t anywhere near to mastering English. He wasn’t criticising her method or anything. Her initiative was quite commendable. He somewhat found her courageous to have the patience to try to teach him her language, knowing she didn’t speak Danish. She could have been unwilling to take her time and spend it with him while she could have had the possibility to do millions of other things. But there she had been all day long, smiling whenever she seemed to think he had assimilated such and such word. She never seemed to get tired of it.

But then maybe she chose to do it because she must have thought she didn’t have any other choice.

He had never learnt another language. Speaking and mastering his own native language was already quite enough for him. But he wasn’t in his homeland anymore… He just needed to adapt, he guessed. If he wanted to survive in a foreign land. 

His father spoke some German. But that’s only because he had met German men and had got on with them during his youth. Well, that’s what he had understood from what he had been told. It had happened a few years prior to his birth, apparently. When his father had volunteered to help the Germans in some civil war or whatever. He didn’t know the details. 

So if his father had been able to learn a foreign language, he didn’t see why he couldn’t do it as well.

He just needed to be patient too.   
Today had been a long day, but he couldn’t complain. Usually, the days passed much faster when you were tasked with various chores. 

“Well, that will be it for today. You must be tired of learning so much in one day only,” she told him with a bright smile. 

And he managed to figure out that meant they were going to stop for today. 

“I’m just going in the hall,” she said as she gestured outside the living room before standing up from her seat. “I’ll be back in a few moments,” she added, still smiling.

Karl just nodded at her, figuring out there was something else she needed to do. 

Once she was out of sight, he looked through the window, and he could see it was only a matter of minutes before the sunset. 

He remained still in his seat, waiting for something to happen, anything. He waited for Mrs. Hopkins to come back. 

As he was waiting, he could hear voices coming from the hall. Familiar voices. He didn’t know why he did it, but this had him stand up from his seat to get nearer to the hall. 

It’s not as if he could eavesdrop on their conversation since he hardly knew a few English words.

After taking a few more steps nearer and nearer, he could finally see them. Paul had finally come back. But no one noticed his presence. They seemed to be too busy with whatever they were talking about. 

He observed them silently. It was so frustrating to see and hear them talk between them and not be able to communicate with them. He wanted to ask them why they were doing that for him, (because they really didn’t have to), and how they would get organized, how long it would last, how they had found him if they knew anything about his country and the reasons why he had to leave it so suddenly.

So many questions that he couldn’t ask.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl goes out with Paul and they go to a pub...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> I just don't know what to write 😂 I'm suffering from a terrible lack of inspiration 😅
> 
> So here you go with the sixth chapter! And I hope you'll like it 😊

The following evening, when Paul was back from work and before it got dark, the man went out and took Karl with him, and Karl wordlessly agreed to go with him.

As they were walking across the city, Paul got a cigarette out of his pocket before he lit it up. Karl just observed him wordlessly from the corner of his eye. 

After they kept walking for a while, they ended up arriving at a pub, in some street. This particular place looked unfamiliar to Karl. Paul entered the building first, followed by Karl. The place was rather dark, not that well lit. It looked… Karl couldn’t find the right word to describe it. It was sober, looked almost old-fashioned as if the place had been built quite a while ago. (like some old pub from the Victorian era). It wasn’t that crowded. Men had surely better things to do than to drink in a pub. 

Paul made his way to the counter. But Karl didn’t follow him. He stopped walking just after he entered the place and took the time to examine it more in detail. After a few instants, he decided to join Paul who was at the counter, seemingly waiting for someone. He stood on his right and waited with him in silence. There was no one behind the counter, and so they had to wait for a little while before someone finally showed up. 

“Hey, Paul!” A female voice greeted him warmly as her eyes met his. “I haven’t seen you in a while here. Where have you been?”

“Busy with work,” said male replied plainly.

“Is that so?”

She didn’t seem to be that convinced by his reply, whatever they were talking about. 

“What is it with you? Don’t you trust me anymore?” He said with a hint of teasing in his voice. 

“I think you were rather seeing another woman, weren’t you?”

“That’s just complete nonsense,” he retorted. “I haven’t been seeing any other bird. Please, can we stop talking about that now? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Who? Your new girlfriend?” She said in a dry and derisive tone. 

“Come on, stop it. It’s not a girl. It’s a young Danish boy.”

“A Danish boy?” She repeated somewhat incredulously. 

“Yes, a Danish boy. The one who is just right next to me and that you failed to notice since you’ve been too busy bothering me with your stupid jealousy,” Paul said as he pointed at Karl with his thumb. 

The girl’s facial expression suddenly changed. She seemed to finally calm down as her eyes met Karl’s. She sighed as she glanced at Paul. 

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. Look, we’re not going to make a fuss about it. So, Emma, this is Carl. And Carl, this is Emma,” he said gesturing at each of them as he said their names.

Karl nodded at her and murmured a small ‘hi’, which was actually the Danish word hey but was pronounced similarly to the English one.

The woman greeted him with a small smile. Karl took in her facial features. 

She looked to be around the same age as Paul, or she may have been a few years younger, but it was hard to tell. She had straight red hair that was tied into a high bun and blue eyes that looked grayish as well as freckles that dotted her cheekbones and nose, unlike his which dotted his whole face. Hers were less eye-catching. Her skin was very pale and her features sharp and well-defined, like high cheekbones. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Carl,” she said softly, making him snap back to his surroundings.  
Karl nodded at first, not understanding what she said, even though he figured out what she meant. 

“Samme her ( _same here_ ),” he answered with a small and somewhat shy smile. 

There were a few moments of silence following Karl’s answer. 

Emma was observing him silently as if she were trying to read his mind. Next thing he knew, she hastily left her spot behind the counter to stand before Paul, quite close to him, so much so that her face was only inches apart from his. 

“What’s the meaning of this? I mean what is he doing here? How do you even know him?” She half-whispered and half-shouted.

“Why do you mind? He won’t bring any trouble here,” Paul retorted somehow sounding offended. 

Emma tilted her head to the side and gave him a sort of reproving look. 

“I know he won’t. I just… I need to understand! Why is he here? Doesn’t he have a family?”

“Of course, he does, like everyone. But the Germans have invaded his homeland,” Paul replied.

Emma seemed to be shocked by whatever Paul had just said.

“Didn’t you hear what they said on the radio?” Paul asked her. 

Emma was left speechless for a few moments. 

“Poor boy…” she ended up uttering as she glanced at him. “I really wonder when all of this is going to stop.”

“Probably not anytime soon…”

They both remained silent for a little while after that until Paul spoke again. 

“Could you give us something to eat? I thought it’d be nice for him to eat somewhere else than at my parents’, as lovely as they are.”

Emma let out a small giggle. 

“Come on, why would you make him come here?” She asked him playfully. “Your mother is the best cook I’ve ever known. I’m nowhere near her level.”

“Don’t say that. You’re the only one I know who can make food as good as she does.”

“Oh, please, you’re only a flatterer.”

“You know I’m not. Here, look, I’ve got some rationing tickets.”

He dove his hand into the right pocket of his trousers, seemingly looking for something, and quickly found it. It was tickets. Three tickets. Karl wondered what they were used for. For drinking probably. Or eating.

He thought they would rather use money to pay for drinks and food. So seeing these tickets puzzled him a bit. 

“No, please, keep them, you’ll need them later on. It’s all on me,” he heard Emma say. 

“We still have food supplies for now. So we don’t need them. And we’ll be able to get other supplies later on when we run out of them,” Paul answered.

“So do I. Even if that isn’t much. What’s left should be enough, at least for him.”

“That’s perfect.”

Emma smiled at him gently. 

“I’ll be right back.”

With that being said, she turned around to leave where she had previously been, disappearing from Paul’s sight. The brown-haired male watched her leave before he looked at Karl. 

“What about we go and have a seat now? Come,” he told him before putting his arm around his shoulder and guiding him toward a table in the back of the pub. They both sat next to each other on a comfortable bench seat against a wall. 

“You need to go out a bit too, even if you’re a bit too young. And you’re safe with me anyway,” Paul told him, even though he knew Karl couldn’t understand long and proper sentences in English. 

Even if they couldn’t communicate like Karl wished they could, Paul didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seemed to be rather enjoying the boy’s presence around him. And the silence wasn’t awkward at all with him. 

A few moments later, he spotted Emma approaching their table, being back with some food, and put one plate in front of Karl. 

“Here you go,” she said with a sweet smile.

“Thanks.”

He still had a thick Danish accent when he said it, but he managed to say it nonetheless. And Emma seemed to be able to understand him in spite of his accent. 

“What a nice accent! How do you say that in your language?” She asked him with a toothy grin.

“Tak,” Paul answered for him with his thick London accent. “He doesn’t really speak English yet. It’s too soon. Just a few words here and there.”

Emma nodded. 

“Oh yeah, right. I should’ve known. What an idiot I am…”

“Don’t blame yourself. Anyway, the more he hears English, the better,” he finished his sentence as he was smiling at her.  
Emma smiled back at him. She then turned her attention back to Karl. 

“Would you like something to drink with it? Drink,” she repeated the word as she highlighted it, trying to mimic someone drinking. 

“He’d like some water, I guess,” Paul replied for him once again. “Unless you have another drink that has no alcohol in it.”

Emma seemed to be thinking for a few seconds about Paul’s words. 

“I may have. Let me have a look.”

Immediately after saying that, she left again. She came back not that long after with a glass full of liquid this time. 

“Here you go,” she said again. 

Karl was surprised by the color of the liquid. 

It wasn’t water. It was brown and sparkling. Karl stared at it closely and with curious eyes. 

“Where did you get that?” Paul inquired, seemingly surprised as well as Karl glanced at him.

“It’s all thanks to my cousin, Annie. When she went to America, she brought back a whole case full of it from there, before the war broke out. And ever since, I’ve kept all those bottles preciously, actually in case of hard times like these.”

Karl saw Paul nodding from the corner of his eye. He was still staring at the content of the glass quizzically. 

“Given the look on his face, I guess he’s never drunk coke before, so I hope he’ll like it,” he heard Emma say, making him glance at her. 

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t like it. Most people, especially youths, tend to become awfully addicted to anything sugary,” he heard paul reply.

Karl could suddenly feel one hand on his shoulder, causing him to look away from the glass.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Don’t you wanna drink it?” He asked him with the appropriate gesture. 

Karl stared into his brown eyes intently before looking back at the glass in front of him. 

“At least taste it. It’s called Coke. Coke.” he then said as he showed the glass. 

Of course, Karl had never had the occasion of drinking coke in his whole life. After staring at the glass for a few more moments, he took it in his left hand before he brought it to his lips, tasting the unknown liquid. 

The taste was somehow strange to him. It was nothing like water. It was fizzy and sweet at the same time. 

He wasn’t used to sweet things and would have preferred water in the end. But he didn’t want to look rude. So he sipped it slowly, trying to get used to the new taste. 

It wasn’t that bad after all, he decided after taking a few good sips of it. 

He then put down the glass and began eating the food Emma had given to him. It tasted good. It’s not as if Karl were someone picky anyway. He hadn’t been raised like that. 

Paul just watched him eat silently. 

“Won’t you have anything?” Emma asked him looking somehow concerned. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’ll get something to eat once I get back home. Could you just bring me a pint, please? It’ll be enough for me.”

“Sure,” she replied with a smile. 

She left once again to go back behind her counter. 

Karl thought about sharing his food with the older man, but he assumed if he wasn’t eating anything he had a good reason for it, so he didn’t even try to bring up that topic.

By the time he had finished eating, Emma had come back with the pint. 

And by the time it had got dark, they were still into the pub. 

At some point, Paul approached the piano that was in one corner of the pub and sat down on the stool before he began playing it. He just played some random tune, a tune which was unknown to Karl, seemingly playing it more for the sound of the instrument itself than for a specific melody. 

After playing a few notes, he stopped to take a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it before taking a good drag of it. He removed it from his mouth with his thumb and index fingers before putting it back in his mouth and started playing the piano again. 

Karl who had been watching him from afar decided to stand up from his seat to join him. He stopped walking near the lid, making him able to have a much better look at Paul moving his fingers on the keyboard from there. After a few moments of remaining standing there, he moved closer to Paul and went to sit on the stool next to him, on the older male’s right side. 

The blond male focused on Paul’s fingers brushing smoothly against the different keys, both white and black. 

It was the first time he had been hearing such a sound. It was delicate, harmonious, and it gave a sense of beauty to the place they were in. 

Karl enjoyed Paul’s company. Even when they were both silent, and even if they had just met the day before. For some reason, Paul reminded Karl of his elder brother. There was something in the older man that was soothing and reassuring, telling him everything would be alright. And at the same time, he had this kind of confident, and laid-back attitude, as if he always knew perfectly what he was doing, what he wanted in life.

But even this didn’t prevent him from being worried for his parents from time to time, as well as his two siblings. They were on his mind, mostly when he was left alone, like during evenings when he was lying in bed; always wondering what they were doing while he was there in a foreign and unknown country. And now in someone else’s house. 

It seemed to be stupid to even think about that, because actually somewhere in the back of his mind he was pretty sure they were doing the same thing they usually did when he was there. 

Why would anything change with his not being home anymore? 

Paul glanced at him before he stopped playing and took another drag from his cigarette. Once he exhaled the puff he removed it from his lips. Karl watched the grey puff whirling into the air as if it was fog. 

“Do you know how to play it?” Paul asked, looking at him and gesturing at the big instrument with his head. 

Karl locked eyes with him before he looked at the piano. He had never been taught to play any instrument. He had never even seen a piano in his life. That wasn’t the kind of thing you could see in the countryside. In Copenhagen, maybe. In a place like this. But it’s not like it would be the kind of place his parents would patronize. 

He stared back into Paul’s brown eyes and shook his head no. 

“Want me to teach you? You’ll see, it’s easier than learning English. Well actually, maybe not that much easier… But you can still give it a try.”

Right after he stopped speaking, he brought the cigarette back to his lips and took Karl’s hands in a slow motion so he could place them on the keys. 

“Let’s start with a very simple tune,” he then said. 

He took his index finger and made him press it on one white touch. He then took his other index finger with his free hand and pressed it on another white touch. He kept repeating the same gesture slowly, making sound a tune that Karl couldn’t recognise. 

Karl simply watched his fingers move wordlessly. He wasn’t used to being touched in such a way, and especially by the man he had only known for two days, but strangely he didn’t mind the contact. After all, it was just to show and teach him how to play, nothing more. 

As he glanced away he saw Emma watching the two of them from a small distance. She was smiling brightly. But he preferred remaining focused on what they were doing. 

“So how did that sound?” Paul asked Karl as he was smiling, cigarette in hand, once they stopped. 

Karl merely smiled back at him. He really had been having a good time. Paul kept smiling at him. 

Before it got too late, they went back to his parents’ home, Paul apparently fearing his mother might have scolded him for making Karl get back home so late. Well, from what Karl understood with Paul’s gestures and imitation.

Karl was much more optimistic now. 

He felt the following day would be another good day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new character appears...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! :) 
> 
> I can't believe it's been already practically one week since I started publishing 😲 Weeks always go by too fast... and so do weekends too. I'll never get used to it.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter! (I think it starts becoming more interesting from here)
> 
> By the way, comments are always appreciated 😊 Even if it's only one word :)

Toward the end of the week, Karl spent the whole afternoon in the city centre with Margaret. The sun was still high in the sky when they went back from there. 

“Thank you so much for helping me with that, Carl,” Margaret said with a warm smile. “In times like these, we all need to be united and help each other, especially those who are in need.”

Karl just smiled at her as a response.

“Well, I think you would like to rest now. It is well earned,” she then said, still smiling at him.

But she seemed to see he couldn’t really understand…

“You,” she pointed at him. “Go upstairs,” she then pointed at the stairs. “To rest,” she imitated someone who was sleeping.

Karl figured out what she meant more or less. Yes, he would go to the room that was temporarily his, but he didn’t feel like sleeping. He wasn’t that tired. He was used to doing things that were much more exhausting than what he had done with Mrs Hopkins.

He nodded, a small smile on his face, which seemed to please Mrs. Hopkins. He went upstairs wordlessly and headed for the room. But as he opened the door, he was met with an unfamiliar sight.

There was another male in it. Despite his quietness, the unknown guy soon noticed his presence. He stared at him with an unreadable look on his face.

Karl closed the door without looking at it as a reflex. The stranger had been unpacking stuff from some rucksack on the bed. But he stopped the second he laid eyes on Karl.

It seemed that neither of them knew what to do or how to react.

Karl examined his face thoroughly. He had brown eyes and was wearing glasses just like Paul’s father, dark brown and smooth hair that was neatly styled unlike his own that looked completely disheveled.

Like the farm boy he was, he had never paid any particular attention to his hair and had never styled it, and he intended to keep it that way. The fact that his blond one was wavy and a bit too long than it should have been for a man at the time made him look even more disheveled actually, but he couldn’t have cared less.

Given his looks, he must have been in his late teens, Karl inferred. Or hardly twenty, it was hard to tell.

He had rather soft features, an oval face, rather thick eyebrows and lips. He was slim and didn’t seem to be particularly fit or toned. It must have been so because he was a city boy. Unlike Karl.

Karl’s features were rather sharp compared to his.

The other male seemed to be examining him carefully as well, probably wondering who he was and what he was doing here. After all, they hadn’t had the chance to meet before, let alone to be introduced.

“Who are you?” The English male suddenly asked him, his eyes focused on him.

He sounded somehow suspicious as if Karl were an intruder.

It would be too complicated for Karl to explain his situation to this stranger. How he had got to England in the first place and the Hopkins family kindly taking him in.

“I’m Karl. I’m Danish.”

That’s pretty much everything he could say so far.

The unnamed male raised one eyebrow at him before he frowned slightly. It almost seemed that he didn’t believe him.

“Danish? What would a Dane be doing here?”

Karl just remained silent. It seemed that it ended up getting on the other’s nerves at some point.

“I asked you a question.”

It seemed that he hadn’t figured out that Karl could hardly utter a few words of English…

“I’m Danish,” he repeated, hoping he would this time.

But the other male didn’t seem to be really pleased by what he said.

“Yes, I know you are. You said it a few seconds ago. But I want to know what you’re doing here! In a house that isn’t yours.”

He sounded a bit aggressive as he said that. But Karl couldn’t blame him.

Karl just blinked at him in silence.

“You,” he said instead, nodding at him. “Who are you?” He managed to ask.

“I asked you a question first, so just fucking answer it!”

Karl wasn’t impressed or scared. He just remained impassive.

He thought about leaving to go and see Margaret. But first, it would be rude to leave just like that. Then, he wasn’t really sure it would help him clarify the situation…

Anyway, he didn’t need to go anywhere because a few instants later, there was a knock on the door.

They both looked away from each other to stare at the door. Karl opened it after a few seconds, revealing Paul.

“Hey,” he said with a smile. “Can I come in?” He then asked pointing at the inside of the room.

“Yeah,” Karl replied, stepping aside to let him in.

He heard Paul murmur a small thanks.

“George! Long time no see.”

“What is this Dane doing here?” The male barked.

Paul gave him a long level look.

“Yeah, I’m glad to see you again, and I’m fine, thanks for asking,” he said, sounding ironic.

George sighed.

“Sorry, but I…It’s quite unexpected. Would you please care to explain? Who’s this Dane and what is he doing here?”

“His name is Carl.”

“I know. He told me so before you came in. But why is he in your former room?”

There was a short moment of silence before Paul spoke again.

“If you want to stay here, you’ll have to share my former room with Carl.”

George didn’t seem to be happy with what Paul had just said.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Paul retorted.

George seemed to be thinking about something for a few moments.

“You are renting your own room for foreigners now?” George asked.

“We’re not renting him a room. We are putting him up for free. Otherwise, he would be homeless.”

George looked much more surprised than unhappy now.

“And so… How come? I mean why would you do that?” He asked him with his brows slightly knitted, breaking the silence. “Doesn’t he have a family? And why is he even here in England?”

“Because it’s war. Haven’t you heard the latest news on the radio?”

George waited for a little bit before he replied.

“No, I haven’t really been listening to the radio recently if you see what I mean.”

Paul kept staring at him as he remained silent for a very short while.

“No, I don’t. And for your information, the Nazis invaded Denmark.” A pause. “I found him sleeping in one deserted alley while I was coming back from Emma’s pub. He had nothing with him but a small bag. So I decided to bring him home. Where he could have my room since my flat is just big enough for me.”

George remained silent, now looking thoughtful.

“He’ll go once the war is over. But you’ll probably have left long before it is.”

Silence.

“Wait, that means… that we’re going to have to sleep in the same bed?” George said, his voice low as he looked horrified.

“What a sharp insight, Sherlock,” Paul answered.

George’s stare turned into a glare at the words.

“Quit it!”

“Listen, in times of war, we have to accept what we have and deal with it, even if it’s difficult. So, either you accept to share the bed with him or you sleep on the floor, okay?”

“And how can you be sure he’ll be willing to share the bed with me? Did you ask him if he would agree?”

“Well then, if he doesn’t want to, you’ll sleep on the floor,” Paul retorted as he shrugged casually. “After all, he was there before you, so that’s only fair,” he added nonchalantly.

George looked as if he were about to tear Paul apart. But it seemed that Paul just chose to shrug it off.

“I’ve already been here long before he was,” George said.

“Yeah, but unlike you, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” was Paul’s reply.

The room became silent, and the more they were speaking the more the atmosphere seemed to be becoming tense.

“Your father never told me I would have to share your former room with a Danish refugee,” George said, his face and tone grave.

A beat.

“I guess he was too preoccupied with you to even think to mention Carl.”

There was silence again.

“Great…” George muttered, really not looking happy again.

“Hey, this is only temporary. So grin and bear it. And please, try to be nice to him,” Paul told him. “He’s a human being, and what’s happening to you is not his fault.”

“I know it’s not. But I would’ve preferred not to have to share your room with him.”

Karl had the impression he had become invisible. He was sure that if he silently left the room they wouldn’t even notice. It seemed that he was not needed here.

They seemed to be well acquainted with each other, to the point where they could argue. Karl tried to infer what George could be to him and his parents.

Given his young age, he was probably not one of Paul’s friends. Perhaps he was related to him in some way. But he couldn’t assert that this was actually the case. They didn’t have the same facial features.

“Sorry you had to witness that,” Paul suddenly told him, making him stop thinking.

“You’re lucky he doesn’t understand English well,” he then said, looking back at George.

“That’s why he didn’t answer when I asked him what he was doing here…” the younger male said in a low voice.

“That’s not surprising. He can only speak a few words and make a short, easy sentence for now. We’re trying to teach him some, well, especially my mother actually, but it hasn’t even been a week since he started,” Paul said. “So don’t be offended if he doesn’t reply when you say something to him.”

“I see…”

George seemed to be thinking again momentarily.

“Then, how am I supposed to ask him if he is okay to share the room with me now?”

Paul shrugged as he put his hands in his trousers pockets.

“Try to speak with easy words and gestures. Don’t worry, he’s not dumb.”

Again, there was an unreadable expression on George’s face.

“This is going to be complicated…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family dinner...and George and Karl try to communicate but of course, it's not easy. 
> 
> (Yeah, I know, I really suck at summaries)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! :)
> 
> Another day, another chapter! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Later during dinner, George and Karl were sitting down next to each other, Karl being on the side that was the nearest to the stove. 

Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins were sitting next to each other as well, Mrs. Hopkins across George and her husband across Karl while their son was alone on one end of the table, the one opposite the stove. 

The meal was peaceful; everyone was eating in silence until Mrs. Hopkins decided to break it at some point. 

“So, George, tell me, how are your studies going?” She asked him with a bright smile. 

She didn’t seem to like it when it was too silent. Well, as she obviously was a warm and outgoing woman who liked to make conversation with anyone, Karl wasn’t too surprised. 

All eyes were on him as he seemed to think about his answer. 

“Huh, much harder and more exhausting than I thought it would be when I first started going to uni,” George replied. “I even thought about quitting.”

“Oh no, that would be such a pity. It’s of utmost importance to get a diploma if you want to have a good job.” Mrs. Hopkins said with her brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, that’s what my mother told me.”

Another smile appeared on her face. 

“Of course she would. She wants to be proud of her little boy like every mother.”

George didn’t reply anything. He was somehow looking anxious as if something was bothering him. 

But none of the Hopkins seemed to notice. Or maybe they simply chose not to say anything about it if they did. 

“By the way, how has she been?” Mrs. Hopkins then asked him, still smiling, probably unable to bear the thought of a long moment of silence that might have become awkward. 

But George didn’t reply immediately. 

“As good as she can be,” he ended up saying, not looking really interested in what they were talking about. 

Mrs. Hopkins’ smile quickly faded, a concerned look now on her face. 

“Does she even know you’re here?”

George gazed into her concerned eyes briefly before he looked away. 

“You know, when I said I just wanted to spend the weekend here, in fact, it will probably last much longer… So I really hope you don’t mind…”

Mrs. Hopkins looked pretty upset after he said that. 

“George… Have you thought about your poor mother? She must be worried to no end and so heartbroken…”

Silence. 

Even if Karl couldn’t get what they were saying precisely, he could clearly see something was off. He kept looking at George from the corner of his eye with no intention of looking away. 

“I’m really sorry to show up here so unexpectedly…” George apologised. 

“Don’t be. It’s okay. You know we’ll always be there for you, no matter what. And this home will always be your second home,” Mr. Hopkins responded in a fatherly tone and with a reassuring smile. 

George stared into his brown eyes before he smiled at him gratefully. He murmured a small thanks before he took a bite of his food. 

“You know, it’s not that we don’t want to welcome you here. You know we’re always happy whenever you’re around, but… You should go back to your mother,” His wife suddenly said, breaking the silence, still looking concerned. 

The atmosphere became tense again, and Karl heard Mr. Hopkins sigh. 

“She needs you much more than you think, you know,” Mrs. Hopkins then added. 

“Margaret, please,” her husband said to her gravely. “Let’s stop talking about that for tonight, shall we? He can stay here as long as he wants to. And he’ll get back home once he feels ready to do so.”

She didn’t seem to really appreciate her husband’s attitude. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking about getting my own flat so I wouldn’t bother anyone anymore,” George chimed in. “But as long as I don’t graduate and get a job, it’s really complicated… I know my mother will never accept to pay for it and for the rent…”

“George, you’ll never bother us, okay?” Mr. Hopkins said. 

“Yes, that’s not what I meant, dear,” his wife said as her features seemed to soften. “But since we only have two bedrooms I don’t know where you will sleep, you see…”

“He will share the room with Carl,” Paul suddenly interjected, looking casual. 

“But there’s only one bed in your former bedroom,” Mrs. Hopkins said, her brows slightly knitted. 

“Yes, I know. But this is war, Mum.”

Her frown deepened. 

“Does Carl even know about that?”

“They’ll reach an agreement together,” Paul replied. 

“But how?”

“Listen, Mum, as I said to George, Carl isn’t stupid, so they’ll manage to do it with gestures and words, you know.”

His mother was about to retort something. But her husband spoke before she could utter anything. 

“Please, no arguments tonight, understood? Can’t we have a peaceful meal? May I remind you we have guests over,” he stated gravely. 

A moment of silence followed his words. 

“Anyway it won’t kill them if they have to share the same bed,” he added somewhat casually, breaking it. “Besides, it will be easier for them to become friends.”

“Who said I wanted to become friends with him? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against him, but I haven’t come here to make friends,” George retorted. 

Robert was left speechless. It seemed that he preferred not to add anything in case he might have said something he shouldn’t have. 

“You should finish eating before it gets too cold,” he merely said in a low voice. 

These words were a safe bet. 

*

Once dinner was over, both Karl and George went into Paul’s former room at the same time. George didn’t even bother to close the door. Karl decided to leave it open, without any particular reason. 

They remained standing still as if waiting for the other to do something, neither too close nor too far; staring into each other’s eyes as if trying to decipher what was on the other’s mind.

This lasted for a little while. George ended up breaking the silence. 

“Do you mind if I stay here?” He asked Karl, not sure he would understand his question.

But he didn’t know how to proceed otherwise. 

He saw there was no reaction on Karl’s part. He considered what he should do when he suddenly remembered Paul’s words. 

Gestures and simple words. This was the key. 

“Me,” he said as he pointed at himself, “here,” he then said as he pointed down at the floor. “Okay?” 

But he couldn’t say whether Karl had understood or not. So he proceeded, hoping to be clearer this time. 

“You and I,” he said as he pointed at the two of them in turn, “here, share the room, okay?” He shook his finger from right to left, showing the space of the room. 

But there was still no reaction on Karl’s part, making him almost desperate. He turned around and was about to leave the room to go and see Margaret and Robert when Karl finally spoke up. 

“Problem,” he simply said with his thick Danish accent. (Anyway, it's the same word as in English.) 

George turned back around to lock eyes with him again, a slightly puzzled expression plastered on his face. 

“What problem? What are you talking about?” He inquired. 

Karl waited for a few seconds before he spoke up again. 

“Jeg taler måske ikke dit sprog flydende, men jeg er ikke blind,” he merely said, leaving George at a loss for words. 

He had never needed to speak foreign languages and didn’t even know what Danish sounded like, until now. Well, he did speak some French and German, and right now he almost wished he could speak Danish. 

I may not speak your language fluently, but I am not blind.

That’s what Karl had meant. Even though George couldn’t understand it. 

He kept staring at Karl in silence before something seemed to dawn on him. 

“Oh, I think I get it. If that’s a problem for you to share the room with me, then I’m just gonna leave.”

He was about to leave the room again when Karl spoke up again. 

“Nej. No,” he managed to utter the word in English. 

George repeated the same movement as he did only a few moments ago. 

“You mean I can…”

Karl nodded without adding a single word.

“But… What about the bed? Bed,” he repeated, stressing it as he pointed at it. 

Karl glanced at it before he stared back at George. 

He didn’t really know what to say or do actually. He had never found himself in such a situation before. 

So he shrugged his shoulders lightly before he made his way toward the bed to sit on it. 

George just watched him silently.

“Well, I guess I’ll sleep on the floor then. It’s still better than being homeless,” he ended up stating, trying to sound casual. 

He sat down on the floor swiftly which was fortunately comfortable compared to the one in his own bedroom. 

Karl observed him wordlessly. He figured out what George was up to. He just couldn’t let him sleep on the floor…

“No… Komme…” he said as he patted an empty spot on the bed. 

George seemed to be surprised he should do and say that. 

He knitted his brow slightly. 

“Are you sure?”

Karl just nodded. 

George waited for a few seconds before he stood back up and made his way toward the bed as well. He sat on the edge of it gingerly, toward the end of it, so he wouldn’t be too close to the blond boy. 

They just both stayed still and silent, Karl’s gaze fixed on the door as if it were the most interesting thing to look at while George was looking down at his feet, his two hands on each side of him pressed flat against the mattress. 

After a few minutes of doing absolutely nothing, Karl stole a glance at George who was still looking down, as if he were afraid to make the slightest move. 

Once they both seemed to come to a silent agreement that it was time for them to go to sleep, they laid in bed, back to back, careful to remain on their end of the bed so their backs wouldn’t brush. Karl was so close to the bedroom wall that he was almost touching it. As for George, if he moved, he could easily fall off the bed. 

A long while passed until they finally drifted off to sleep. 

They guessed they could get used to that if they really didn’t have any other choice.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hopkins and Paul talk about Emma. But she is also worried about George. Paul and Carl go out again, but not to the pub this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! :)
> 
> Just to let you know, this chapter is longer than all the previous ones; so enjoy!!!

When Karl woke up the next morning, he noticed he was alone in the bed. He pulled himself at the centre of it, laying down lazily as if he didn’t really want to get out of it. He was used to getting up pretty much early, mostly before dawn, and had never had the occasion to sleep in late. But here it wasn’t like home at all. And he wasn’t home anymore. 

He could perceive the dim light through the curtained window. He fluttered his eyelashes, taking a slow look at his surroundings. Nothing had changed in the room ever since he had gotten here for the very first time. He stretched his limbs lazily and looked at the ceiling. He was only wearing a sleeveless undershirt and breeches. He had grey trousers on as well. He hadn’t dared remove them to sleep with George. 

He just remained into bed motionlessly, just trying not to think about anything for once, and enjoy what he had. 

Had his mother been there to see him, she would have had him get up in less than five seconds to get to work. He let out a quiet sigh. 

He decided to remain lying in bed for five more minutes before he took a quick shower and got dressed. Then, he swiftly headed downstairs and headed towards the kitchen.

“Tell me, Paul, what about you and Emma? When are you two finally going to get married?” he heard Mrs Hopkins say as he entered it. 

He sat next to Paul silently. Mother and son seemed to be too focused on each other to even notice his presence.

Paul looked at her with a blank look on his face before raising his eyebrows. 

“Who told you we were going to get married?” 

“Well, I know she likes you a lot.” 

Paul’s eyes widened slightly as a very small frown appeared on his face. 

“She’s just a good friend, Mum, nothing more.”

“Don’t be silly,” she responded as if she was scolding him. “You know it’s much more than that between the two of you.”

Paul looked slightly annoyed. 

“Mum, could you please not stick your nose into my love life? Can’t I have some privacy?”

“But I am your mother, and it’s only legitimate for me to know this kind of thing.”

Paul just rolled his eyes as he looked away from her. 

“Should I remind you that you’ll turn thirty soon?” She proceeded. “When your father was your age, he already had you.”

“I am not my father,” Paul retorted.

“Listen, I don’t want to wait to be eighty until I can finally become a grandmother.”

Paul let out a sigh. 

“You shouldn’t be in such a hurry to become a grandmother, you know,” he said after a few seconds of silence somewhat casually. “You will age overnight when it happens, and you don’t want that to happen, do you?”

“Mind your words, will you?” She said as she hit him with the rag she had in one hand. 

Her reaction made her son smirk. 

“Come on, Paul, I’m serious, you’re not going to remain single until the end of your life, are you?” She said in a scolding tone as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

Paul glanced at her, and let out another sigh. 

“I still have time to get married and make a lot of grandchildren for you, you know. I want to keep making the most of my single life while I still can.”

His mother just shook her head at him. 

Suddenly, her husband entered the kitchen and approached his wife. 

“Good morning, dear,” he said, smiling as he kissed her on the cheek. 

But he seemed to quickly notice that she wasn’t in a good mood. 

“What’s the problem?” He asked her showing some concern. 

“The problem is that your son hasn’t married yet,” she retorted gravely, a hint of annoyance noticeable in her voice.

“Oh, that… I thought it was something much more serious,” he said before he took a seat near his son. 

“This. Is serious,” she stated as she snapped, her voice dangerously low. 

But neither her husband nor son seemed to be scared. 

Mr Hopkins unfolded his morning newspaper to read it. 

“There’s no urgency. He’ll get married once he’s found the right woman.”

But this only earned him a glare from his wife. 

“You two, stop it with your cocky attitude,” she demanded sternly. 

The two men exchanged a look that probably only themselves could decipher. 

Karl cleared his throat just like the first time he had entered the kitchen to get the family’s attention. 

The three of them turned their heads to look at him. 

“Good morning, Carl,” Mr Hopkins greeted with a warm smile. “Sorry, I did not notice you were there.”

“Oh, dear I did not either. I am so sorry. I do not want you to think we were ignoring you…”

Paul shook his head as he was smiling. 

“You’re just like Emma, Mum. How could I be willing to marry a woman who is just like my mother?”

His mother hit his arm again as she had a stern look on her face. 

“Men always marry their mothers,” Mr Hopkins said. 

“Is that so?” Paul asked. 

“Well, it is so most of the time.” 

Mrs Hopkins was the one to shake her head this time. But she wasn’t smiling. She made her way near the stove as if she didn’t want to talk to any of her son or husband any more.

“So how was that first night with George? Did you sleep well?” Mr Hopkins asked Karl.

Even if he still couldn’t understand English very well, he could still identify ‘George’ and the word sleep which Mrs Hopkins had taught him amongst others. 

“Yeah,” he simply replied. 

Mr Hopkins nodded as he smiled at him. 

Karl just couldn’t help wondering where George was. 

“George….” He uttered still with his thick accent. 

He tried to make gestures to express what he wanted to say, hoping it would help. 

“He’s gone to university,” Mrs Hopkins replied with a big smile on her face as she appeared right next to him and put down a plate before him. “Here you go, my dear.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. George, out,” she said as she showed outside the kitchen. “Not in. Not here,” she added as she showed him where they were. 

Karl nodded as he understood he had left the house. 

She then disappeared again before coming back swiftly with cutlery. 

“Here,” she said as she handed them to Karl.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Shortly after, he began eating.

“I really hope he doesn’t skip his classes though…” He heard Mrs Hopkins say after a few instants of silence, concern obvious in her voice. 

“You’re not going to spy on him, are you?” Her husband said earnestly as he was reading his newspaper. 

The woman seemed to be somehow annoyed by his words, or maybe more about the way he said them. 

She waited for a short while before she spoke again as she was staring at him. 

“I’m just worried about him, you know,” she responded, offended. 

Mr Hopkins looked up from his paper to gaze at her. 

He seemed to be considering what the best answer to this would be. 

“George is a serious boy, he would never do such a thing. Even if it is hard, he will not give up.”

“How can you be sure of that? You may know him very well, but you are not in his head,” the woman protested as she put her hands on her hips. 

“If you wish I can go and check out during my break,” Paul suggested, sounding rather nonchalant. 

Both parents looked at their son before gazing at each other. His mother seemed to be suddenly relieved as she smiled again. 

“That would be lovely.”

“And Carl can come with me.”

“What do you mean ‘come with you’?” 

“Well, I could take him with me at work today and that way we’ll be able to go and check it out together.”

“But he can’t stay with you while you’re working, can he?”

“Of course he can, Mum. No one will mind. He just can’t stay all day long at home every day. He needs to go out, to see new places and meet new people, you know.”

“But I’ve already taken him out once. And I’m perfectly aware of this,” his mother retorted, looking slightly offended.

“Yeah, I know. But it will be more interesting for him to see how one job works.”

“We can do other more interesting things too. I can show him a lot of things you have no idea how to do.”

“I know you can, Mum. Don’t take it that way.”

“I take it the way I want, young man. I don’t really like your innuendoes,” she retorted as she was now frowning and had her arms crossed. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Mum. But you’ll be able to go out or do whatever you like with him again tomorrow. Or any other day.”

His mother seemed to be much more pleased by that. 

“Very well, then. You can take him with you.”

Paul could catch his father smiling at him as he glanced at him before he looked at Karl who was chewing on his food. 

“You and me, go out, okay?” 

Even if Karl could get what he meant, he simply nodded with a small smile. 

“Great,” was his reply as he smiled back. 

Once Karl was done with eating his food (which he did quickly), they headed outside and went into the city centre. 

~

Paul worked as an engineer, a job Karl didn’t know at all, well just by name. But thanks to Paul he learned the basics of how it worked. He definitely wasn’t an expert as regarded all the different kinds of jobs that existed. Still, he found what Paul showed him rather interesting. Or maybe he thought so because it meant sharing something else with Paul and spending more time with him. 

When lunchtime finally came, Paul took him to the university where George was supposed to study. 

“In times like these, you’d better not be too hungry,” Paul said on their way there. “But don’t worry, we’ll have a good meal tonight,” he reassured the younger male. 

Karl smiled at him as an answer. 

After walking for a while, they finally got there. The building was huge and quite impressive, and Karl was really amazed as he was staring at it intently. 

“I don’t know precisely his lecture schedule, but that’s alright. We’ll just go and ask his professors directly,” Paul said as if it were no big deal, making Karl glance at him. 

“You have already seen a university before in Denmark, haven’t you?” The older man then wondered aloud.

His statement caused Karl to look at him with interest. 

Paul met his gaze before he gestured at the building before them with his head. 

“School. It exists in Denmark too.”

And Karl could understand what he meant because most of the words were similar to Danish ones. There was something fascinating somehow in the way both languages looked so similar as yet they weren’t the same. Karl was really thankful for that, because had it been any other language than English, he didn’t know how he would have dealt with that. 

“Yeah,” he just said with a small smile.

This was the kind of building you could see in Copenhagen, but not where he came from. He could remember his elder brother showing the university there that looked just as impressive as this one when he showed them around the city a few years ago.

“Let’s go, shall we?” Paul said with a confident smile. 

Karl nodded with a smile of his own.

“Yeah.”

They resumed walking and headed towards the main entrance in silence, but there was nothing uncomfortable in it. 

Karl was even more impressed as they entered the building. The halls, as well as the main campus, was crowded with people, a majority of women actually, but there were also a few men.

None of them paid attention to them, as if they were just some ghosts. After crossing the campus, they reached a big wooden door toward the end of the university, and Paul opened it, holding as Karl could enter the room. He quickly thanked Paul as he stepped in, and waited for Paul to stand beside him to keep walking. Then, they went upstairs, the staircase large and made of marble. 

“Have you…” Karl trailed off still with his Danish accent, earning him a glance from Paul.

He wasn’t very sure of his capacity in forming too long and proper a sentence in English. Still, that didn’t prevent him from trying. 

“Studere…” he said the word in Danish because he didn’t know how to say the right word in English. “…here..?”

Anyway, the Danish word must have been similar to the English one, since Paul seemed to understand. 

“Yes, I have,” Paul replied immediately and in a confident way. “And so did my father.” He paused before he proceeded. “Before he had to go to war,” he added gravely. 

“War?” Karl repeated the word out of curiosity, having some trouble to pronounce it, and not knowing what it meant. 

The truth is that this one wasn’t similar to the English one. Otherwise, he would have recognised it. 

“Krieg,” Paul suddenly said, with a weird accent. 

Karl instantly recognised the word, even though the accent was unfamiliar. So he doubted that Paul meant to say the Danish word. Had he spoken Danish, they could have communicated properly and it would have been much easier for him to learn English this way. 

He wasn’t blaming him for not speaking Danish though.

“Krig…” Karl repeated thoughtfully as he glanced down at his feet. 

Karl didn’t know what it was… Well, he had never experienced it, had never gone to fight. And his parents had never really talked of this particular subject to him. 

“We’re at war right now. That’s why you were forced to leave your country.”

Karl just remained silent as he was somehow thoughtful. Also, he couldn’t really understand the words Paul had just said. Though he guessed what he meant with them just because of the mention of war and ‘you'.

“War isn’t pretty. It always causes collateral damage.”

A pause. 

“But I don’t even know why I’m saying that. You must know that already.”

By now, they had finished going upstairs and were heading toward another door, which was smaller than the other one. 

Paul opened it without bothering to knock, due to the fact that he was quite familiar with the place. They entered into what looked like a kind of office. There was a woman sitting at a desk and talking to someone on the phone. 

She had dark blond curly hair that reached the upper part of her chest and a green dress littered with white polka-dots. She seemed to be in her mid-forties. 

Paul waited for her to hang up to make their presence known. He cleared his throat once she had, causing her to look up from the papers on her desk. 

“Hello,” she greeted them. “Do you need anything?”

“Yes. We would like to know if Professor Hughes is around.”

“What for? Do you have an appointment with him?”

“No, but I am one of his former students and there’s something I need to see with him that can’t wait,” he lied.

The woman stared at both men in turn with a stoic face for a few seconds before she spoke again. 

“Yes, I think he is. Generally, at this hour of the day, he is in his office.”

“Alright. Thank you,” Paul replied before nodding at her and leaving the room, Karl following closely behind him. 

Paul closed the door before he made his way towards another one. This time he knocked on it and waited for the usual “come in” to open the door. He gestured for Karl to enter first, which he did.

His eyes landed on a man who was standing behind a large desk, looking at some papers that were in his hands. He was wearing a dark grey suit and had grizzled hair that was a dark brown colour, and he was wearing glasses just like Paul’s father.

Paul closed the door carefully and went to stand close to Karl who didn’t know what to do. Paul put one arm around his shoulder and had them move together closer to the desk. 

“Who’s there?” The professor asked solemnly before looking up swiftly. 

“Oh Paul, it’s you.” 

“Good afternoon, Professor,” he greeted politely. “I’m sorry to disturb you and come here toes you so unexpectedly but there’s something I really need to ask you.”

“Oh, well. It’s fine then. What that might be?” He asked as his gaze was focused on the brown-haired young man.

Karl noticed how blue his eyes were, unlike Mr Hopkins's. 

“My mother and I were wondering if George attended lectures and other courses diligently.”

“George? Yes, absolutely. I’ve never seen such a hard-working and determined student. Thank God he was exempted from enlisting. It would’ve been such a shame to lose him.”

“Yes, indeed.”

The professor’s eyes suddenly shifted to Karl. 

“And who is this young boy you brought with you?” he asked curiously. 

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to introduce him. This is Carl. A Danish boy who is currently living with us.”

Said boy was definitely not used to being the centre of attention, and to meet people he didn’t know. So this was somehow a bit unsettling. 

The professor nodded at him with a smile, blue staring into blue. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Carl.”

Karl nodded at him with a small and polite smile. 

“Wait, now that I’m thinking about it. What made you and your mother think that George could skip his courses?” The professor asked Paul with great interest. 

“Well, he admitted it was hard and exhausting, and he looked rather...weary.” A pause. “He even admitted he had thought about quitting…”

“Did he?” The professor asked looking a bit shocked. 

“Yes. That’s why my mother was especially worried about him. And that’s why I told her I would go and check by myself to make sure everything was alright.”

There was a short moment of silence as Professor Hughes looked down thoughtfully. 

“I will make sure he won’t. I know the situation we live in makes things particularly tough. But if we stick all together we will make it through.”

“Hopefully.”

“Well, I’m supposed to have a lecture with him in a few minutes,” the Professor suddenly said as he looked at his wristwatch. 

“And I’m supposed to go back to work soon. So I’m not going to bother you any longer,” Paul immediately replied. 

“You haven’t bothered me at all. I am glad I could assure you that George is as studious as he was on his first day here.” 

“Thanks Professor,” Paul said with a grateful smile. 

By now Professor Hughes had left the spot behind his desk and put his papers down and was now facing Paul.

“No need to thank me,” he said as he shook hands with Paul. “It was only natural.”

“Goodbye Professor.”

“Goodbye, Paul. Please, give your father my regards. It’s been a while since I last heard from him.”

“I will,” Paul assured him. “Well, he hasn’t gone out very often lately.”

“Well, I haven’t myself,” the blue-eyed man admitted before he let out a small chuckle. “In such hard times, we really don’t feel like doing this kind of thing.”

“But even if the situation is complicated, it doesn’t mean we have to stop living. Otherwise, it’s as if we were all dead.”

“You’ve got a point there,” the Professor answered, smiling. “Well, have a good afternoon despite all the work you have to do.”

“You too.”

After they said goodbye one last time to each other, the Professor saying goodbye to Karl in the process, they left his office swiftly to go back to where Paul worked. 

On their way out, they came across George. 

“Paul? Carl?” he pronounced their names with slight puzzlement in his voice. “What are you doing here?” 

“We just wanted to pay you a friendly visit before your next lecture,” Paul replied nonchalantly. 

But George didn’t really look convinced by his answer. 

“Really? But why would you do that? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Since when are you worried about me not being at work?” Paul retorted wittily.

“I wasn’t worried. And since when have you decided to pay me unexpected friendly visits at university. You’ve never done that before.”

“Well, that was also a good opportunity to show Carl the university.”

Before George could reply anything, Paul proceeded. 

“Maybe you could show him around in detail once all your courses are over,” he suggested with his hands in his pockets. 

“Why should I? I’m not a touristic guide,” George retorted. “Why can’t you do it? You studied here just like me.”

“Well, if you have to share a room with him for an undetermined span of time, you might as well spend with him.”

But George didn’t seem to agree with this. 

“I don’t see why; sharing a room and a bed is already quite enough.”

“But sharing such an intimate space is better when you get to know the person you share it with, don’t you think so?”

George said nothing for a few seconds as if pondering over Paul’s words. 

“And how am I supposed to get to know him if we can’t communicate properly?”

A beat. 

“Just make some effort.”

Karl just listened to their argument silently. He couldn’t get much of it, actually. He mainly understood they had mentioned work, university, and tourist guide, and he guessed they were talking about him since Paul mentioned his name.

He was just feeling so out of place. He was just a silent observer, hanging out with a man he had hardly known for a week, yet who treated him as if he were a long-standing friend of his, and who showed him his world that was so different from his. 

“Whatever,” George uttered seemingly a bit annoyed. “I’m going to be late because of you.”

With that being said, he hurried to go to class without even saying goodbye or anything else. 

“Well, we’ll see you tonight at home then,” Paul shouted as George was moving away from them.

“He can be such an ass sometimes,” Paul said in a low voice. “But don’t worry, he isn’t always like this. I just don’t know what’s got into him lately.”

Karl glanced at him as he was watching George, or rather his back, fade into the distance and the crowd of people that were around. 

“Come let’s go back to work.”

He wanted to know what was up with George, but he felt that it was none of his business. Besides, his poor knowledge of the English language was a great hindrance. 

So he just nodded in silence as they left the university, his mind wandering to his family on the way.


	10. Chapter 10

When they came back home in the evening, Karl found George leafing through some huge book as he was sitting on the bed they had started sharing last night. 

He seemed to be so focused on what he was doing that Karl thought it’d be best to leave him alone and join Paul’s parents in the living room. 

He closed the door just like he had opened it, without a single noise, and made his way downstairs swiftly. 

“So what do you think of the university?” Mrs. Hopkins asked him as soon as he was in their field of vision. 

He looked at them silently as he approached them and went to sit in the small brown armchair across her and her husband.

“It’s…” he started as if looking for the right words. “nice...” he managed to say, even though it wasn't easy. 

“Isn’t it?” Mrs. Hopkins said with a big smile plastered on her face. 

“It’s one of the most prestigious and elitist universities in the country, and it was founded by the king himself, George IV,” she said proudly. 

Karl could make out the words prestigious and elitist, but it was more complicated for him to understand the second part of her sentence. 

“The _king_ ,” She repeated, emphasising the word, seemingly noticing he didn’t get this. “You’ve got a king too in Denmark. The only difference is that yours is older and has been reigning over Denmark for much longer.”

Karl simply nodded as he figured out what she said. He knew at least that they had a king ruling the country, thanks to his father, making him not completely ignorant. 

His brother and sister had even shown him where he resided. 

“Wait, now that I think about it, we don’t even know which city he is from,” Mrs. Hopkins suddenly said, seemingly shocked by whatever had crossed her mind. “We should have asked him the first time when he told us which country he was from.”

Her husband just glanced at her silently as he had one leg crossed over the other. 

“Are you from Copenhagen?” she asked him as she spoke distinctly. 

Karl waited for two or three seconds before he shook his head. 

“No. Not København. I’m from Fanø.”

“Feinuh?” Mrs. Hopkins repeated with her London accent. “I have never heard of this place before. It is true that except Copenhagen, we do not really know the other town and cities,” she said to her husband who still kept quiet. He just seemed to prefer to let her talk. “Is it near Copenhagen?” she asked, making small hand gestures with her fingers as she did. 

Karl shook his head again. 

“No, it’s...nær havet.”

“Near what?”

Karl didn’t know the English word for _havet_. 

“Ocean,” he uttered, saying the other Danish word, even though he doubted it would help.

But Mrs. Hopkins didn’t seem to understand because of the different pronunciations. 

“Blue,” he then uttered. 

“I think he means it is near the ocean,” Mr. Hopkins suddenly spoke calmly, glancing at his wife. 

“Oh. Well, Copenhagen is near the ocean too. But I guess it is in another part of the country then.”

Karl just kept staring at them silently, his hands in his lap. 

“And siblings? Have you got any siblings?” She then suddenly asked him.

Upon seeing he didn’t seem to understand that, she tried again differently. 

“Brother? Sister?”

Karl nodded. “En søster og en bror.” _One sister and one brother_.

“Are they older or younger?”

“Older.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” the woman replied with a smile. “What do they do for a living?”

“Margaret, just stop asking him questions, will you? I don't think he is really comfortable with all that questioning,” her husband interfered. 

“I just want to try to know more about him,” she retorted. “You are not going to reproach me with it, are you?”

“It is a bit too soon, don’t you think?” 

The woman stared into her husband’s brown eyes intently before she let out a quiet sigh, seemingly defeated. 

“I know it is, but I guess I just got too eager when we managed to understand each other..”

A beat. 

“Anyway, the more we speak to him, the more he will get used to English; even if he does not understand at first, he needs at least to hear the words.”

“Well, I think he has heard enough English for today.”

Karl was really uncomfortable with their little argument. It reminded him of when his own parents argued, but generally, theirs would be more...violent (not physically speaking). 

Just like that time before he left them…

“Dinner needs to be reheated,” Mrs. Hopkins just said as she stood up from the sofa and made her way toward the kitchen swiftly without looking back at either her husband or Karl. 

Mr. Hopkins and Karl locked eyes with each other, the man having a look on his face that said it was no big deal.

“Women,” he merely said. “They can be easily offended sometimes.”

Karl just gave him a small smile that looked almost shy and sheepish, understanding he was referring to his wife. 

He broke the eye contact and looked around the room as if he were seeing it for the very first time. The silence was somehow uncomfortable for him. Not because of Mr. Hopkin’s presence. No, he was simply frustrated. He had never been a big talker who would hold the floor and talk for hours on end, but whenever he had the occasion to speak, he liked to do it. He didn’t mind at all being asked questions. He just wished he could answer them properly. By that, he meant without making it look awkward and without his unfamiliar accent.

Paul’s father didn’t seem to mind the silence though. Actually, he rather seemed to be enjoying Karl’s presence. Pretty much like his son. 

But then it was just Karl’s impression.

In a way, Mr. Hopkins wasn’t exactly like his son. Not that it was something he was reproaching him with. He seemed to prefer the silence and to speak only when it was necessary.

Well, most likely that easy way of talking was a trait Paul had inherited from his mother.

Mrs. Hopkins came back a few minutes later in the living room, a silver tray in her hands. 

“Until dinner is ready, help yourselves,” she said as she put it down on the small round tea table. 

Arranged on it were slices of bread with butter spread on them. They weren’t that big, but it was like a kind of appetizer as a good way to start. 

Both men leaned in and took one as Mrs. Hopkins sat back again next to her husband before she took one herself. 

They all ate their bread in silence, enjoying it, and once the tray was empty, Karl stood up from the armchair to take it back to the kitchen. That was the least he could do since they were kind enough to accommodate and feed him for free, without demanding anything from him in return. 

“No, dear, please. Let me do it,” the woman hurried to say. 

“I can do it,” Karl simply replied. 

“If he wants to help, you’re not going to prevent him from doing it, are you?” Her husband interfered. 

“And why don’t we make a butler of him while we’re at it?!” the woman retorted sharply, obviously offended (again). 

Karl quickly left the room to avoid another little scene. He couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty, guessing it was because of him, just because he wanted to be helpful. 

“This is not what I meant, Margaret, and you know it,” the man defended himself. “If he wants to help, just let him help. And if he will not help, then we will not force him to help.”

Karl put the tray down on the counter, and soon enough he was joined by Mrs. Hopkins.

“Thank you, Carl. It’s so sweet of you to be willing to help,” she told him with a bright smile. 

The blue-eyed boy just gave her a smile in return. 

“Well, I am going to lay the table now. Feel free to help me if you want to,” she then said before she started opening one cupboard to get some plates out of it. 

Karl took them as soon as she put them down next to the tray and set them on the table. Once every plate was in front of a seat, Margaret settled the cutlery, and after that Karl helped set the glasses. 

There were only four plates. 

Paul wasn’t going to have dinner with them that evening. After taking Karl back to his parents’ house, he had quickly left. Since it was Friday evening, he planned on going out, probably at the same pub where he had taken Karl. He had asked Karl whether he would like to come with him, but Karl had preferred to stay at home. 

“Carl, could you please go upstairs and tell George that dinner is ready?” She lifted her index finger in the air to show ‘upstairs’, and Karl immediately complied as he nodded before leaving the kitchen. 

He opened the door to the bedroom in the same way he had earlier and sneaked in. 

George was still in the same position he had been into earlier, still doing the same thing. 

Karl cleared his throat to make his presence known. 

But George seemed to be way too engrossed in what he was doing to even hear it. Or maybe he just wanted to ignore Karl.

Karl looked at him intently, leaning in the doorframe with his hands in his pockets.

“Dinner is ready,” he merely said still with his heavy Danish accent, his tone grave and neutral.

George suddenly looked up from his book to make eye contact with him. 

“I’m not hungry,” he simply replied, his tone and gaze indifferent. “And I need to study.”

Karl didn’t bat an eye. He just studied George’s facial expression carefully and understood that he didn’t want to be disturbed. He nodded before he left the room and closed the door before heading back downstairs. 

When he went back into the kitchen, Mr. Hopkins was sitting down at the table while Mrs. Hopkins was busy dealing with what she had prepared. Karl decided to sit down next to the man, doing it in silence. 

“Isn’t George with you?” She asked surprised as she approached the table to put the cooking container down in the centre of it. 

Karl shook his head. “He isn’t hungry. And he needs to study,” he just said. 

Silence followed his answer. 

“Well, even if he isn’t hungry for now, he will still be able to come down and eat what will be left of dinner,” the man said casually. 

A beat. 

“So be it,” his wife said gravely before taking Karl’s plate to serve him. “Here you go,” she said with a smile as she handed him his plate back. 

“Thanks.”

Her smile just grew wider at that. She then sat down across her husband and let him help himself before helping herself. 

The dinner consisted of some soup made of various vegetables, and it tasted really good. 

“So, how was work today?” Mrs. Hopkins asked her husband to make small talk. 

“Just like every other day,” the brown-haired man replied plainly, seemingly disinterested in the topic. “Nothing new or extraordinary happened today.”

Karl could sense there was something broken in him as he said that. He could see a kind of void in his warm brown eyes that were looking dull as he stared at him intently. But he didn’t question it in his mind. 

Mrs. Hopkins just nodded before eating some more of her soup. 

Once they all had finished their supper, Karl helped Mrs. Hopkins clear the table and wash the dishes before drying them. 

Once they were done, the woman told him to join her husband in the living room. He did and sat down in the same armchair as earlier while the man was facing him again. 

The man smiled at him warmly as they briefly made eye contact, and Karl smiled back. 

A few moments later, Mrs. Hopkins finally joined them bringing with her the same silver tray she had brought earlier. Yet, this time, there weren’t slices of buttered bread on it, but a nice white teapot made of porcelain with blue roses as a design. There were three small teacups and saucers that had the same design around them. 

She put it down silently before she started pouring the hot black tea into the three cups. 

“I’ll be back in a few moments,” she said with a small smile before disappearing into the kitchen once again. 

In less than two minutes she came back with a small white milk pot and a homemade cake. She put the pot down next to the cups where there was still some space left;

“Would you like some carrot cake with your tea,” she asked Karl, beaming at him as she put one hand on his shoulder while handing him the cake with the other. 

Karl stared at it with curious eyes for a little while before he reached out and took one slice of it. 

“Thanks.”

“It’s delicious, you’ll see,” she said, her smile wide. 

Karl gave the cake one last look before he decided to taste it, taking a small bite of it in his mouth and chewing it slowly. 

It didn’t taste bad. It wasn’t as if he were picky anyway. 

“Do you like it?” Mrs. Hopkins asked him expectantly since there was nothing on his face that enabled her to tell whether he did or not. 

Karl turned his head to look at her and nodded before he swallowed his mouthful of food. His nod was received with a wide smile, and the woman’s hand slid from his shoulder as she moved away from him to go and sit next to her husband after she put the cake down. 

She took the white pot and poured some milk into her cup as her husband took his own cup and started sipping on it like a real English gentleman. 

Karl put the slice of cake on his lap and leaned in to take his own cup in his hand. 

“Have you already had the occasion to taste some tea before in Denmark?” She inquired curiously. 

“Tea is an English thing,” her husband said as he put his cup on the saucer. “I don’t think many Danes drink tea.”

“It’s not only an English thing. The Japanese drink tea as well, and they have a ceremony that is as important and pompous as we have it in England.”

“I meant on our continent. I don’t think any other country in Europe likes tea as much as we do,” he said somehow playfully. 

His wife let out a small chuckle at that. 

“But we like coffee too here,” she said with a smile.

The taste of tea wasn’t that bad, but Karl wasn’t used to drinking it. It was just some kind of flavoured water that was hot in fact. He still preferred to have some milk in it. He really liked milk, and that was something you couldn’t do with just water. 

So he quickly added some milk to it after his wife handed him the pot. 

“I hope George isn’t overworking himself too much,” Mrs. Hopkins said at some point after a short moment of silence, a look of worry forming creases on her forehead. “This won’t help him to pass…”

Karl could only understand that she was talking about his unexpected roommate, but the look on her face had him guess that she was worried about him. 

“I don’t think it would be a good idea to interfere with the way he studies,” her husband simply replied.

“Even if we just want to help him?”

“Yes.”

Karl didn’t know George well enough yet to think anything about him.

Once Karl got back into the room, George just ignored him and pretended he wasn’t there, still engrossed in his book. 

This was going to be another long night...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl, George, and the Hopkins family go to church...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I hope y'all doing well :) 
> 
> I know I was supposed to publish one chapter every day, so I'm sorry about it. I was just feeling depressed and lonely for the last few days, and so I wasn't in the mood to think about publishing, let alone writing. But like every time I have to face a hard time, I end up getting better. I think I'm not the only one anyway. 
> 
> So to try to make up for it, I'm going to publish two chapters tonight :) I really hope you'll enjoy them! 
> 
> Don't hesitate to let me know what you think :) Feedback is always welcome ;) (and tbh I think it could really help me)

On Sunday, Karl went to church with the Hopkins family as well as George.

As far as he could remember, his family had never really been religious. They had never gone to the local church (Or maybe they had when they were young, but he couldn’t even be sure about that). And when he had asked why his mother had replied that they didn’t have time to waste to worship some invisible God that wouldn’t help them to make a proper living and with all the work that had to be done.

If his mother knew he was in a church instead of working, he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate it at all. She must have been fuming ever since he had had to leave.

It was the very first time he had been wearing a tie. Apparently, it’s needed to be dressed in nice and classy clothes if you want to get in the church. Otherwise, they probably wouldn’t let you in.

No wonder he and his family had never gone to the local church then…

Since he didn’t have a tie, he had to borrow one from Paul. It was a nice black and red tie. And since he didn’t know how to tie a tie knot, Paul had to do it for him before they headed off there.

He figured out that the family had exceptionally missed the office last Sunday because Paul had brought him into their house.

He tried to apologise, but Mrs. Hopkins didn’t seem to think it was necessary as she laughed it off.

He had never seen a bible, the Holy Bible, and hadn’t even realised the Hopkins’ had one in their own house.

He clearly did not understand a single word of what was said during the entire office, didn’t even know how to pray in Danish. And he was somehow afraid people would notice, well, not afraid but more like somewhat embarrassed.

If only they knew he had never attended church in his life… He would probably be kicked out the second they would know…

The man preaching, who was looking rather old, much older than both Mr. And Mrs. Hopkins (he was probably in his sixties), was… Well, it’s not that his sermon was boring but… The way he was speaking, and the fact that Karl could only identify one word here and there… There was nothing attractive or exciting in it.

Instead of looking at him, Karl looked at the people in the assembly. They weren’t that numerous. But there were enough of them so the church wouldn’t look empty.

They all seemed to be quite interested in what the man was saying. Unlike him…

He then stole glances at the Hopkins family. He was sitting between Mrs. Hopkins and Paul. Her husband was sitting next to her, on her right, while George was sitting next to Paul, on his left. They were sitting in the front row. It was impossible for him to read the expressions on the men’s faces. Looking at them just like that, you could have thought they were almost bored. But then, maybe they were just deeply focused on what was happening. As for Mrs. Hopkins, she looked serious, attentive, invested in the service, as if attending it was a duty. But a duty that wasn’t a burden.

You could easily see the glint of fervency in her eyes.

He didn’t really know why, but he smiled as he glanced away from her. There seemed to be something so pure in this woman. The way she acted with him (well not only with him) and spoke. Yes, he had seen she could be easily offended by whatever her husband and son could say. But it didn’t make her a bad or mean person in any way.

He didn't really know much about purity and all that kind of stuff. Good and Evil were two notions he had never had the occasion to reflect upon. Because he had never been to church. And no one had clearly explained that to him. But he knew what he saw. He saw the light in her and knew what it meant. 

Once service was over, they all exited the church in silence. The clergyman was bidding goodbye to his parishioners in the large doorway.

“Father,” Mrs. Hopkins said to him with a bright smile.

“Oh, Margaret. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Father. Thank you.”

“We didn’t have the pleasure to see you last Sunday. I was surprised. I then thought something might have happened to you or to one member of your family.”

“Oh no. We are all doing fine. I’m so sorry, Father. I forgot to let you know we couldn’t come. I didn’t mean for you to be worried about any of us. Actually, Paul brought us an unexpected surprise home.”

As she said her last sentence, she was standing behind Karl with her hands on his shoulders. Even though he couldn’t see it, he was certain she was smiling.

“Father, let me introduce you, Carl. He is a young Danish boy currently living with us.”

“Oh, a Dane. Very well. It is always nice to welcome a new parishioner in our humble church. Consider this church like your other home, my son.”

“We’ve been teaching him English only for a week. So he still has a lot to learn. But he’s making quick progress.”

“Well, I am glad to hear it. It is always good to see foreigners make effort to learn our language and become integrated into our community.”

“Carl is very serious, and even though he doesn’t, he’s truly motivated.”

“Very good. Very good.”

“Oh before I forget, I wanted to tell you I really liked your sermon today. You always find the right words.”

By that time, she had let go of Karl’s shoulders and had got nearer to the churchman.

“Thank you, Margaret. You know I always appreciate hearing your kind words about me and my work. I really do. But if it weren’t for all the people that keep coming in these tough times, I highly doubt the quality of my sermons would be as good. I don’t know if you noticed, but the number of men and women has been decreasing more and more ever since the beginning of the war.”

War…

“Yes, I noticed it indeed. This is such a shame. But at the same time, it’s good to see that our people are invested in the war effort to help all this inhumanity and brutality end.”

“Yes, yes. I just hope we won’t have too many dead people to mourn. Like in the first world war.”

“Father,” Mr. Hopkins suddenly said, approaching the grey-haired man.

“Ah, Mr. Hopkins.”

They shook hands.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Mr. Hopkins said politely.

“Of course,” the man said smiling at him.

After that very short contribution, Mr. Hopkins walked away.

Karl was wondering where he was going to go like that. He was a bit surprised that he should go away without his wife by his side.

But Mrs. Hopkins didn’t seem to mind, or to be disturbed by that sudden leaving as he thought she might have been.

“May the heavens hear you, Father.”

“Oh, now that I am thinking about it, I saw you had brought someone else with you. Someone I hadn’t seen in a long while. Hmm… What is his name already?”

“George.”

“George, yes, that’s right. He has grown up quite a lot. He’s not the little boy I pictured in my head anymore. He has grown into a fine young man.”

“Yes, absolutely! He reminds me of his father in some way.”

The man hummed at that, as if in agreement.

Speaking Of George, Karl suddenly noticed he wasn’t there anymore. And neither was Paul for that matter. They must have slipped away from behind him.

He looked around for them on the church forecourt, but they were nowhere to be seen. Out of curiosity, he decided to go and look for them. He knew it was rude to leave just like that, but he didn’t want to interrupt.

They couldn’t have gone back home already, could they?

He chose to walk around the church to make sure about it. He found them leaning against the wall at the back of the church, Paul with a cigarette in his mouth.

He was standing not too near to them, and they didn’t notice his presence as they seemed to be talking about something. But he couldn’t hear precisely what they were saying from his position.

But he could see George smile at some point at whatever Paul had just said.

Naturally, it was such a surprising sight since George had never smiled whenever he was around him.

Anyway, it seemed that Paul had this gift, ability - he didn’t really know what word was better - to make most people smile with his mere presence, or with simple words. Unlike him. Back on his island, people would smile out of politeness when he saw them. But with Paul, it wasn’t just to be polite.

Well, maybe he was exaggerating a little bit. After all, he had hardly known him for a week…

But it was clear that he had this easy-going way with people, and a natural charisma. He certainly was the man who could become friends with anyone.

“Carl!”

Speaking of the devil…

Paul was waving at him, probably meaning for him to join them. But he was somehow reluctant, afraid to disturb them.

“Come!” Paul then shouted.

Well, he couldn’t not come. So he approached them both.

Paul smiled at him, unlike George.

“So, I hope the church wasn’t too boring for you. You were unlucky to end up in a family with such a Bible-basher mother. Thank God, we had her stop to force us to say grace during meals. We only say it on big occasions.”

“Why do you speak to him if he can’t understand what you’re saying?” George asked Paul.

Paul gave him a look that Karl couldn’t really decipher.

“How do you want him to learn English?”

George remained silent afterward.

“Ah, here’s my father.”

Father. That was a word he had never heard being pronounced so often in so short a span of time.

Mrs. Hopkins smiled at them once he was near them.

Paul took a drag of his cigarette. He was careful not to send it either in Karl’s or his father’s face as he exhaled the smoke.

It seemed that there was nothing particular to be said about this one full hour of religious service.

A long moment passed before the silence was broken.

“You know, George, you don’t have to come with us every Sunday if you don’t want to,” Mr. Hopkins said. I’m sure you can make much better use of this time for your studies.”

“Are you sure Margaret won’t mind?”

Mr. Hopkins gave him a confident smile.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll know how to convince her.”

Karl noticed Paul was smiling as well, or maybe more like smirking.

“Thanks.”

“The same goes for you, Carl. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.”

Karl blinked at him, not really sure what he meant.

The negation told him it was something that he wouldn’t do. And he identified the word studies. That suddenly made all sense to him. George, who was really busy with studying for university, wasn't forced to come with them to church, so he would have more time to study, and so more chances to pass.

So…this meant he wasn’t forced to go either. But unlike George, he didn’t have anything to study for school. So what would he do all alone in their house while George would be studying? He would get quickly bored, most likely.

“I…” he stuttered unsurely. “I want...come.” He had trouble pronouncing the words, and he hoped they would understand him with his heavy accent. He found there was nothing elegant in the way he spoke English, unlike their accent.

“Are you sure you really want to? You don’t seem really enthusiastic about it.” Paul told him.

He didn’t seem to look really convinced by his answer.

Karl just nodded, hoping father and son would be satisfied with that and change the topic of conversation (since George didn’t look too concerned by it, not to say not at all).

Paul and his father exchanged a silent look.

“Listen, he can try a second time, but when, and if, he gets tired of it, he can decide to stop,” the man said to his son.

“I’m sure you’re saying it because you wouldn’t like to offend Mum, would you?” Paul told Karl.

Apparently not.

“She won’t be angry with you if you choose not to come anymore,” Paul’s father then told him with a small smile.

“No, but she will with you,” Paul answered.

“Your mother is a woman who knows to accept compromise.”

“But he already isn’t schooled, so if he doesn’t go to church… I doubt she will accept the compromise.”

“Just because he is unschooled doesn’t mean he cannot get a proper education. Learning English is already noteworthy.”

“You’ve got a point there, indeed. Learning a foreign language you have no other choice but master is wearisome and demands a lot of time and effort.” A pause then. “But honestly unlike what mum seems to think, I don’t think the pastor’s sermonising will help.”

“English is still English.”

“That’s not the kind of thing that makes you want to learn English.”

Paul took another drag of his cigarette right after he said that. There was a short moment of silence

“I guess so. No matter what he decides, the choice will still be up to him,” Mr. Hopkins said.

There was something in the way he talked. Or maybe it was something in his accent that made him unlike the others when they spoke, he didn’t quite know precisely. Well, he didn’t know anything about the different English accents. It all sounded the same to his ears whenever he heard an English person say something. Yet, there was something different in Mr. Hopkin’s voice. He couldn’t be mistaken about this. Something that made his words sound nicer in a way.

It’s somehow strange that he’s only thinking about it now. Or that he thought about it so early, so suddenly.

He just decided to shrug the thought off of his mind.

“I just hope Mum won’t take too long,’’ Paul said. “Since she missed church last Sunday, I’m afraid she might stay twice as long to catch up on what she missed.”  
“Well, if such is the case, she’ll join us directly at home,” his father replied.

It was silent again afterward. And it remained like that for a little while, until Mr. Hopkins decided to speak up again.

“Let us go and wait for her before the church.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl and George are not going to become friends anytime soon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the other chapter! ;)

Two weeks passed. Nothing particular happened during this span of time. Karl was gradually adapting to this new way of life. He actually liked seeing and doing new things other than the usual farm work with his parents. Breaking out of his usual routine to settle a new one. Besides, it was only temporary.

The Hopkins family being always so nice and warm with him made it much easier for his effort of integration.

But as for George, he had been acting the same way toward him as the very first few days he had got there: cold and aloof, pretending he didn’t exist.

Karl couldn’t say it affected him in any way. He didn’t particularly want to get to know him.

Why should they learn to get to know each other anyway?

Karl just happened to get there when he apparently needed to stay in the Hopkins house too. It’s not like they wanted to become friends or anything.

And forcing them, or forcing themselves to become friends wouldn’t be a good thing, he couldn’t help thinking.

He had noticed that George had been skipping most dinner times, supposedly much too busy to study to take the time to eat anything.

He suspected it was because of his presence, something that didn’t seem to come to mind to either Mr. Hopkins or his wife.

“Don’t tell me George is going to skip dinner again tonight,” Mrs. Hopkins said one evening, obviously upset.

Paul wasn’t there again, but he couldn’t tell about the precise reason for his absence. It’s not as if he needed to justify it with him anyway.

“We can’t force the food down his throat if he isn’t hungry,” was her husband’s answer.

He didn’t look happy as he said that, but if he was worried, he was hiding it pretty well.

“If he keeps on skipping so many meals, he is going to end up becoming ill. Is that really what you want?” Mrs. Hopkins said, her hands on her hips. “This will not help him pass in any way.”

Her husband didn’t reply, as if he didn’t know what he could say.

“Maybe you should try to talk to him,” she added after a long moment of silence, having softened in the way she spoke.

“And what should I say to him?” A pause, then. “I do not think it would help much anyway.”

His words were followed only by silence.

“You could still try at least,” Mrs. Hopkins ended up saying, looking more worried than anything else.

There was silence again.

“I willl leave it to Paul to talk to him later. He will certainly be better at this than I can be.” A pause. “For now, let us just be patient. There is no reason to be this alarmed just yet.”

Mrs. Hopkins looked as though she wanted to say something, but her mouth remained closed.

Karl sat down opposite Mr. Hopkins once he finished laying the table down. Mrs. Hopkins made her way to the stove and brought the stew she cooked earlier that day.

“You know I have been thinking about something,” she said as she put it down. “Perhaps we could go out on the coast this weekend. I guess Carl would like to see something other than London. London is nice. But the coast is even nicer. Especially during such a time as May.”

She sat down next to Karl, presumably waiting for an answer from her husband.

He seemed to be rather surprised by what she had just said.

“You would be ready to miss Service just to go on a short holiday?”

She looked like she was somehow shocked by what he had just said. Or maybe it was too strong a word.

“Just one more time, exceptionally. Father Lovejoy will understand. I really think George needs a small break.”

Her husband remained silent, seemingly deep in thought.

“So what do you think?” She questioned.

He didn’t reply immediately to her question.

“I think it could be nice for the boys. Even though a world war is not really a good time to think of going on a holiday.”

“That’s why we need it all the more so. I think it’s not a bad thing. You need to take your mind off of all the things you read about in your morning paper.”

Mr. Hopkins just looked into her eyes silently, and Karl could see that same look in his eyes again. Mrs. Hopkins didn’t say anything anymore, and instead, she stood up from her seat, took Karl’s plate to put some stew in it. Karl thanked her, and she did the same with her husband.

The silence was becoming kind of awkward, and it seemed that nothing could be done to lighten the mood. The teen met Mrs. Hopkins’s gaze as she had just sat back down. She gave him a warm smile.

“I’m sure you will love it.”

He guessed she was talking about what she and her husband had been talking about a few moments earlier.

“Love…” he repeated, trying to pronounce it the best way he could. He didn’t know the meaning of it.

Mrs. Hopkins hummed as she was smiling.

“It will remind you of where you come from, Feinuh.”

He immediately understood she was referring to his native land.

“We will be going on the coast.”

Another word he didn’t know yet.

“Coast, near the sea, ocean, you know.”

Ocean, he recognised the pronunciation. So this meant…

“Kyst,” he said the Danish word aloud, not that he wanted them to learn Danish.

“Kist,” she repeated with her nice English accent. “Is it how you say coast in Danish?”

He nodded.

Mrs. Hopkins seemed to be delighted to know this.

“It makes me think of _kissed_ ,” she then said.

Karl glanced at her husband to check whether this look in his eyes had gone or not. Mr. Hopkins glanced back at him before smiling at him. Karl smiled back before he looked down at his plate and started eating.

“If there was really one language I would like to learn, this is Danish,” Mrs. Hopkins said.

“I thought you wanted to learn to speak French fluently,” her husband chimed in.

“Yes, I still do, but this is different.”

Mr. Hopkins raised one eyebrow at her.

“I am certain that you are just saying this because Carl is here. Had he not been here with us, you would have never given any thought about Denmark, Danish, and its people.”

“And so what? There is nothing bad about it, is there?”

Her husband just kept staring at her in silence.

“Just keep teaching him English for now.”

“You don’t need to say that.”

After dinner, they moved into the living room to have some tea, which seemed to be some evening ritual.

Mrs. Hopkins made another carrot cake to go with it. And she was still worried about Karl’s roommate.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go and see George and try to talk to him?”

“Paul will be there tomorrow. It can wait until then.”

She sighed.

“This is just so frustrating to see him feel down and not be able to help him properly.”

Mr. Hopkins waited for a few seconds before he came with a reply.

“I know. But at least we are here for him.” He paused before proceeding. “He knows he is not alone.” He paused again. “We have always been here, and always will.”

Karl wasn’t particularly worried about him, but he still brought him a slice of cake when he finished drinking his tea and eating his own slice.

Starving when you don’t have any food to eat is one thing, but making yourself starve when you have food to eat seemed almost absurd to Karl. Unless you have a very good reason to make yourself starve. For example, the day when he had had to leave his parents and home unexpectedly, he hadn’t felt like eating anything. He still thought the boy with glasses needed to eat if he wanted to be productive.

“Oh that is so kind of you,” Margaret exclaimed with a big grin once he had the slice in his hand. “I wanted to ask you to do it, but it’s a very good thing that you took the initiative to do it by yourself,” she said, obviously proud of him.

He just smiled at her as a response before bidding them both good night and heading upstairs discreetly. He opened the door, trying to remain as discreet as possible, and not really surprised by the sight in front of him, he took a few steps forward. George was still studying and had probably not moved from his spot on the bed, like most evenings.

It was somehow strange to Karl because a bed didn’t seem to be really appropriate to study. There would need to be a desk in the room. Or maybe there was one before, but it was removed. Karl couldn’t know.

He approached the brown-haired male without uttering a single word and put the slice down on the bed next to him. George followed his movements carefully as he seemed not to like the fact that Karl was so close to him.

He raised one brow at him as he stared into his piercing blue eyes.

“Am I supposed to eat it?” He asked not really in a nice tone.

Karl just stared back into his brown eyes intently, almost as if he was trying to stare into his soul. He could understand what he had just said, but he just didn’t know what he should answer. So he just shrugged, indifference visible on his face.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry. Not. Hungry,” he said a bit too aggressively.

This confirmed Karl’s suspicions. Even if they had met each other only two weeks earlier, George didn’t seem to like him at all. Karl had already had this impression from the very start. He had done nothing wrong to him though. Karl had nothing against him since he didn’t know him. Neither did he like him or hated him. He was just neutral. He wasn’t even indifferent towards him.

“So you can take it back, eat it, or do whatever you like with it,” George then added.

Karl would be ready to leave to let him have the room all to himself. Paul and his parents were really nice, too nice, and he wasn’t really comfortable with the thought of crashing and living in a house that wasn’t his, being idle all day long instead of working. Yes okay, he would help here and there whenever he could, but he didn’t consider it enough.

His mother had always repeated to him that nothing was free in life and that he would have to work hard to get anything he wanted.

And these words had been etched into his mind for a long while now.

He just took back the slice of cake and left the room without saying anything. Once he came back into the room, George just ignored him and pretended he wasn’t there just like he had been doing it every time. But Karl didn’t mind. He could understand that his presence wasn’t welcomed there.

When he was finally lying in bed after some time, and once he made sure George was fast asleep, he left the bed and the house, quiet as a ghost.

He didn’t know where he would go, but as long as he knew he wouldn’t sponge off anyone anymore, it would be okay.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone ends up finding Karl the following day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! :)
> 
> Here's another chapter :) And as usual, I really hope you'll enjoy it :)
> 
> I don't know if it's just me, but normally your writing is supposed to get much better with time when you keep writing every day; so why am I under the impression that mine is still the same and that it hasn't improved at all?
> 
> Anyway, here you go with the chapter!

Karl woke up on some bench somewhere in London as dawn was peaking through the cloudy sky. 

He sat up swiftly, putting his feet on the ground before he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. 

That night had been a long night, but he still managed to get one or two hours of sleep after wandering in the dark London streets. 

He just didn’t feel like standing up and going anywhere anymore. He felt tired, but not the kind of physical exhaustion. No, he was tired from roaming aimlessly and considered it to be pointless if he had no precise purpose in mind. He was just back to square one now.

He was feeling like he was useless, that the world didn’t need him in a way. No one needed him there in that big city populated with unknown people, in that country that was much bigger than his own country. 

He was somehow feeling empty as if his life had lost all of its meaning all of a sudden. 

His mind went momentarily blank as he stared into the distance with an impassive face, watching the part of London he was in slowly wake up from her slumber. 

He really wished his family could have been there with him, so he wouldn’t have been feeling so lonely and lost, but to do what? To be just like he was being right now? Of course, his parents wouldn’t leave their piece of land. It was the most precious good they owned. 

His father had inherited it with the farm from his father who had himself inherited it from his own father, and so on. And he was supposed to inherit from it once his father got too old to be able to take care of it. That was how it had been planned ever since his older brother had preferred to leave home to go and settle down in the capital city at the age of twenty-one. And his son, if he had one, would be supposed to inherit it from him, that was just how it was. 

Nothing really exciting. 

He wished he could have seen at least his brother and sister one last time before having to leave. He wondered how they had reacted upon learning the news of the foreign invasion; if they had reacted in a way that was similar to either one of their parents. He wondered how they were dealing with it, whether it had disrupted their daily lives or not. 

Time seemed to come to a halt as he kept waiting, sitting on ‘his’ bench. It was awfully long and endless to wait like this, it was actually way worse than wandering through the city with no purpose, he decided.

He didn’t know precisely how much time passed since he didn’t possess a watch. But given how the sun was high into the sky, a few hours must have passed, like two or three. 

He didn’t even know how he would feed himself now that he had run away from the Hopkins’ house. He wouldn’t start stealing even if he had no other choice. That’s not the way he had been raised. 

So he would probably die of both thirst and hunger in a few weeks, found dead in some spot of the city he would end up in. And his family wouldn’t even find out about it. 

How sad. 

He frowned slightly at the thought. 

Who would want to give a job to someone like him anyway? 

What was worse between being taken by the Nazis and starving in a country you didn’t know, with a language you hardly spoke, and where you were penniless? 

He really wondered; because this question was somewhat hard to answer. 

He was starting to think that his father’s decision was maybe not that good when suddenly he was snapped back to reality by a familiar but unexpected voice that startled him. 

“Hey.”

He looked up to lock eyes with George who was standing right in front of him, but not too near. Karl raised one questioning brow at him, silently asking him what he was doing there. 

But the brown-haired boy just kept staring at him silently, as if thinking about what to say. 

Karl didn’t look away from his brown eyes through his spectacles, his stare hard and unflinching, similar to his mother’s gaze, something he did without even realising it. 

After almost one minute or so, George decided to sit on the bench next to him wordlessly, the space he left in between them being enough to fit one person. He sighed as he entwined his fingers together, letting his hands rest on his lap.

Karl observed him carefully because body language was sometimes more helpful to understand a person, especially when you don’t speak their language fluently. 

“I’m sorry for yesterday,” he finally said in a low voice, seemingly meaning it. But Karl couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. It was easy to say things while thinking otherwise. 

Karl remained silent as he stared ahead of him absent-mindedly, being hardly able to believe that the English youth had come all the way there just to find him and apologise. 

“I know I haven’t been really nice toward you and that it was rude of me…” he said somewhat awkwardly, looking uncomfortable. “But I guess I’ve been anxious and snappy ever since…” he trailed off, suddenly stopping mid-sentence, somehow intriguing the blond-haired boy. He sighed again under Karl’s silent gaze that wasn’t as hard as it had been a few instants earlier. “Forget it,” he said somewhat dismissively. 

There was a short pause before he spoke again.

“Anyway, I’m sorry,” he said gravely. 

Karl wasn’t really sure about what his real intentions were, what he really wanted. 

He looked at him closely, trying to figure him out, and the brown-haired male glanced at him, surely waiting for him to do or say something, anything maybe.

The blond boy just pretended that he was all alone as he stared into the distance blankly again. 

He wasn’t mad at all for his hostile attitude. No, he was completely lost and still didn’t know what to do anymore, as if he had lost control over his own body and mind. 

“It’s nice to know you have a place you can go to when it becomes impossible to stay at home in one way or another.”

Karl turned his head to look at George who had just said that. His tone wasn’t aggressive, or anything similar to hostile. No, if anything, it was thoughtful, with a tiny hint of melancholy in it. It was soft. 

The Danish boy didn’t entirely understand what he said, and the sudden shift in the English student’s behaviour somewhat unsettled him. It was so sudden that there was something intriguing in it. 

“I don’t plan on staying there forever anyway, so don’t worry. I just need some time to work things out.”

Karl just kept looking at the boy as he said those words, his tone graver this time. 

“Oh fuck. I bet you don’t understand a word of what I’ve been saying,” he then whispered. 

He let out another sigh.

“I might as well show you around the city so you won’t get lost next time you decide to run away again.”

He stood up from his spot all of a sudden, Karl’s eyes still on him. 

“Come,” he said to the boy, which sounded more like an order rather than something casual.

Karl understood the word, yet he didn’t move. 

“Come,” George insisted, a bit forcefully. 

But Karl still didn’t. So without warning George grabbed his arm, his grip firm on it, and pulled him up, taking Karl with him throughout the city. 

“You’re in Battersea here,” George said as he was still holding his arm, leading the way to wherever he wanted to take him. 

Just as unexpectedly as he had grabbed his arm, he stopped in his tracks almost making Karl bump into him, and let go of his arm before turning around in a flash to face him. 

“Do you understand?” He asked him, seemingly looking annoyed again. “Just say yes if you do, and no if you don’t. Okay?”

As he was staring intently in his brown eyes through his spectacles, Karl nodded.

“Okay.”

“Good. So here,” he made the gesture with his finger to show what was around him. “This district; it’s called Battersea. Battersea.”

Karl was really under the impression that he was taken for an idiot because he couldn’t fully understand a foreign language. He was somehow having a kind of inferiority complex because of it because he had never had an education. Well, those people seemed to have a pretty high level of education, yet they didn’t speak Danish. But maybe they spoke other languages. Which he didn’t. 

“Battersea,” he repeated.

He was having some trouble with the English pronunciation. But he had no other choice than learning anyway. 

“Yes,” George confirmed. “And now we’re going into the city centre. You’re not going to camp out on that bench indefinitely anyway. If you do you’ll be dead before long. Come, and this time follow me,” he instructed, okay?”

“Yes.” Karl simply replied, his voice low and flat. 

“Good. This way,” he said as he gestured for the right direction for them to go in.

With that being said, they headed towards the core of the city, walking in silence side by side.

“You know, Margaret was so bloody worried when we realised you had left home without letting know anyone about it,” George said after a few minutes, breaking it. His voice was solemn, even sounded a bit thoughtful.

Karl didn’t really know if those words were meant for him, or if it was just one way to fill the silence. 

“It was decided that we should all go in separate directions to look for you and bring you back home,” he then added. 

The Danish boy merely glanced at him as he preferred to look ahead of him whenever he would walk. 

“It seems that she has already adopted you,” George proceeded, causing Karl to glance at him once again. 

They walked around the city (and took the bus two or three times to go quicker), George showing Karl the most interesting and worth seeing spots in London, the different districts and boroughs. Karl even recognised the university George was studying at when they passed before it which was actually called "King’s College". 

He also understood that George was named after their king. How interesting. It had him wonder whether he was named after someone specific or whether his parents had chosen his name just because they liked it, or a bit randomly. He had never thought to ask his parents about it, not even when he was a little boy. That had always been something natural that didn’t need to be questioned.

When the sun was about to set, they finally went back to the Hopkins’. Karl complied meekly and silently, although he hadn’t forgotten why he had deliberately chosen to leave their house. He didn’t really know himself why he did it; it’s not as if they could have had a considerable discussion about the whole matter. 

Maybe because he knew he had no other choice than to accept the family’s kind and more than generous offer. 

Or maybe simply because deep down he missed this feeling of having a home and not having to toil like a slave to be a part of it. Even if he didn’t know them that well, he liked staying with them in their house. There was something warm and relaxing about it.

Either way, he couldn’t help the small and brief smile that reached his lips when Mrs. Hopkins literally threw herself on him and hugged him tightly as soon as she saw him with George by his side. 

“Thank God, you’re alright,” she whispered seemingly relieved to see him again. 

Karl didn’t dare to hug her back, so he just stood her rather awkwardly in her embrace. 

“Mum, just let him breathe,” he heard Paul say. 

“We were so worried. We thought something might have happened to you while you were out there.”

Her tone was somewhat similar to the first time they officially met each other: filled with concern. But she looked and sounded even more worried this time. 

So unlike his mother. He had never seen her being worried about anything or anyone, not even about him or his siblings for that matter. 

She was a stoic woman; the kind of person that always remained unfazed no matter the circumstances. 

“Where did you find him?” Mrs. Hopkins asked the English male next to him as soon as she pulled away. 

“He was sitting on a bench somewhere in the Battersea area. He really looked like a lost puppy,” he replied gravely, though there seemed to be something more than that in his voice. 

Maybe it was just pity. Pity for a poor foreigner who was forced to leave his country because some strangers wanted to take him away. 

Karl looked closely at the English woman. She seemed to be horrified by what the other male had said not long earlier.

She looked back at him, still with the same look on her face. 

“Why did you run away so suddenly? Don’t you enjoy staying here with us?” 

It seemed that a flash of hurt was reflected in her greenish-blue eyes as she spoke those words. 

Karl suddenly felt bad about his decision to leave, almost regretted it. He was smart enough to figure out this had created a kind of misunderstanding. 

He didn’t even feel confident enough to try to speak. Plus, the fact that he couldn’t communicate properly to explain himself was discouraging him to open his mouth. 

“It’s all new to him,” Paul interjected calmly. “This new lifestyle must be a major change and have him upset in one way or another.” A pause.” Or perhaps he just wanted to leave because he misses his family too much...” he added, looking a bit concerned.

He then remained silent as all eyes were now on him. 

The silence lasted for a little while as everyone except Karl seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. 

“I know we all wish this war could be over pretty soon, but unfortunately once a war begins, you can never know when it ends…” Mr. Hopkins broke it, speaking in what looked to be distress. 

The English man suddenly seemed to be extremely worried by something, and since Karl caught the word war in his sentence, he guessed it was the one thing that was making him so worried. 

Karl looked at the man’s wife who gave her husband a sympathetic look, a look he had already seen in his father’s eyes before when he was still a child. 

The next thing he knew, the woman was staring into his light blue eyes. 

“I know we will never be able to replace your family, Carl; but we can’t let you be homeless. I’m sure anyone else who would have found you would have done the same thing as us.”

He preferred to see her smile rather than with that look on her face. 

“If you want to see them again, you have to stay with us for now,” she then added. 

Karl’s understanding of English wasn’t good enough yet to understand that.

So he just stood still, his face impassive. 

“I don’t think he understood what you’ve just said…” her husband said. 

The woman let out a quiet sigh. 

“I wish I could be a better teacher…”

“You are a good teacher, Margaret,” her husband hurried to say. “You’re just not used to teaching our language to foreigners. That’s why it’s very complicated. But I’m pretty sure he’ll manage to become fluent in the end,” the man assured her. 

“If he stays long enough with us to learn…”

The man didn’t reply, and he seemed to become worried again. 

*

After they all ate some rice and steamed, chopped carrots, and after Paul bid goodnight to his parents as well as George and Karl and left to go back to his own place, the two young males were left alone in the room. 

“I need to study again tonight,” George told Karl as he showed him a book, probably the same book as the one he had been so busy reading for the last two weeks. 

Study. That was another word he could recognise and comprehend now. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I leave the light on for a bit too long.”

Karl just observed him in silence as the meaning of George’s words was unknown to him. 

“Licht,” George then said as he pointed at the lamp that enabled him to light the room.

Lys. Karl instantly made sense of the word. And of what George had meant. 

“I do not,” he replied; it was easier for him not to use the contracted form because of the "diphthong" which was rather hard to pronounce. “You can…” he trailed off uncertainly. “Du kan lade det være på.” 

_You can leave it on_.

As he didn’t know what else to do, he swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and removed his braces, leaving him with only his white singlet, and slipped under the blanket to lie into bed, staring for a long while at the ceiling, his hands behind his head as George silently sat on the edge of the bed to study. 

He was still awake when he felt George lie into bed as quietly as possible. His back brushed slightly against his own as he positioned himself, and Karl swore he could hear him mutter some apology that was almost inaudible. But he was quite sharp-eared. 

He wondered if the sudden shift in his behaviour would last.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George makes some effort now with Karl and receives a letter...

The following morning, when Karl walked into the kitchen, he found George sitting at the table, along with Mr Hopkins and Paul. 

“But it’s a good thing that Churchill’s become the new PM. Chamberlain only made wrong decisions. He wasn’t fit for the job,” he heard Paul say. 

“Good morning,” he said to make his presence known. 

Mr Hopkins, who was on one end of the table, smiled at him. 

“Good morning.”

“‘Morning.”

It wasn’t too late yet, explaining why George was still here.  
He went to sit down opposite Paul. For once, Mrs Hopkins wasn’t in the kitchen, which surprised him a bit. 

However, it wasn’t long before she entered the room. 

“George, you’ve received mail,” she said before handing it to him. 

“Thanks, Margaret,” he replied as he took it. 

He tore the envelope open and took what was inside. 

It was a letter. 

Something he had never received in his life, except ones from his siblings, but they had always been destined for his parents, even if he was mentioned in most of them. 

George read it silently and folded it back into place once he finished. 

“I have to go now,” he said before standing up swiftly. 

Just with the way he looked and the tone he used, Karl could see something was wrong, and he was probably not the only one. 

“Won’t you eat anything?” Mrs Hopkins asked him, looking concerned once again. 

“Just some bread with butter, but I’ll eat it on the way.” 

“Just wait a minute, will you?” She said before making her way toward the counter. 

Hardly one minute later, she gave to him two big buttered loaves. He stuffed the letter in his trousers against his stomach, took them, and thanked her. 

“See you tonight everyone,” he said before making his way out of the room. 

“See you,” everyone replied in unison, except Karl. 

The more the young English male was near him, the more he was intriguing Karl. 

“Oh, by the way, good morning, Carl,” he heard Mrs Hopkins say to him. “Sorry, I almost forgot to acknowledge your presence,” she sounded more upset as she said that. 

“Once again,” Paul chimed in. 

She didn’t need to apologise, it was fine with him. 

He decided to shrug it off and looked at Paul before nudging him in an attempt to try to know more about the letter. 

But it seemed that his questioning look wasn’t enough. 

“George...Brevet,” he said the word in Danish because that was another word he didn’t know yet. 

“Oh, you mean the letter.”

“Letter,” Karl repeated slowly and carefully. 

It wasn’t one of the most difficult words to pronounce, fortunately. 

“It’s his best friend. He’s gone to war,” Paul said. 

War. That word again…

“And he probably won’t be back home anytime soon,” he then added. “It’s only the beginning.”

Actually, he had some trouble to realise what was really happening. These “Nazi” men invaded his country, hence why he was forced to leave, but other than that, he didn’t know anything else… Once he had a good level of English, the Hopkins would be able to explain the situation to him properly, he told himself. 

“best f-www…”

“friend,” Paul helped him. 

This letter, the ‘w’ sound, was one of the things he had the most trouble with to pronounce. That was something they didn’t have in Danish. 

“You and I,” Paul said, probably trying to find a way to explain the meaning of the word since he didn’t know it. “We’re friends.”

Karl wasn’t sure he had understood well at that precise moment. But he couldn’t be mistaken, could he?

“Vi er venner?” ( _We are friends?_ )

Paul hummed in approval. 

“We are,” he then confirmed. 

Then what was he to his parents? 

But they even hadn’t known each other for a month… And he was already considering him as his friend. 

Even if it meant he had to share the room with George for another long while, he didn’t mind. He wouldn’t leave anymore. 

He looked back at the other male who smiled at him. 

“Wanna come with me to work again?” Paul asked him. 

How could he possibly say no to this? 

“Selvfølgelig,” ( _Of course_ ).

He didn’t know why he said the word in Danish. It came to him spontaneously. Maybe because he was really happy. 

Paul’s smile turned into a grin. 

Karl glanced at Mr Hopkins and saw him smile at them. Of course, it could only make him smile. 

Both father and son had the same smile, he realised. 

Just like his own father and brother. He didn’t know if he had the same as them too. He couldn’t split himself. And no one had ever made any comment about it. 

He knew though that he took more after his mother while his brother took more after their father. As for their sister, she shared facial features of both their parents.  
Both his father and brother have light brown hair as well, while his sister, mother and himself have blond hair. But one thing they all had in common was blue eyes. 

Maybe he had the same smile as his mother, but it would be hard to confirm. She ought to smile much more often for that. 

Anyway, was it really necessary to think about this right now when he learnt he just had made a real friend?

*

They went back a bit late that evening. But Mr and Mrs Hopkins didn’t seem to mind. They missed dinner time, but Mrs Hopkins reheated supper just for them. But instead of being just the two of them in the kitchen, Mr and Mrs Hopkins stayed with them to keep them some company. Well, mostly because Mrs Hopkins was curious about their day. 

Once they had drunk their evening tea and after Paul had left, he went upstairs to go in his shared room. However, as soon as he had his hand on the knob, he realised that he couldn’t open the door like he usually did. It was...it was as if something was blocking it. 

He didn’t know what to do now. George was most likely in here. But then maybe he didn’t want to be disturbed…

And of course, he would respect that. 

Anyway, before he had even time to decide to turn away, the door opened to reveal the English male. 

“Sorry...” he apologised. “I…” he trailed off.

“It’s okay,” Karl simply said. 

He noticed the letter in his hand as he glanced down. He reminisced what Paul had told him this morning. 

His best friend was gone at war. It may or may not have explained his behaviour towards him. He couldn’t know for sure. 

He didn’t know what it was to have someone close to him go to war to fight. 

“Damn, I’m still blocking the way,” George said before moving aside. 

Strangely, Karl had the impression that this was not the only problem in George’s life… that was just...some kind of intuition. 

“So, won’t you come in?” He looked at George again, and soon realised he hadn’t come in yet…

So he did without wasting another second. 

Once he was inside, he didn’t really know what to do. Not only because of what he had learnt but because except sleeping he had never known what to do in a bedroom…

Especially when he was sharing it with someone else… 

He had shared his bedroom with his brother and sister once, but this was completely different. Well, technically it wasn’t really his then since they already shared it before he was born. 

But that was not the point right now anyway. 

Things could become awkward very easily. And he still didn’t know how to deal with it. 

It would have been much easier had they been able to befriend each other if George had been just like Paul. 

But everyone has a different personality, that’s what makes them unique. Or so he thought. 

He took a few steps towards, seeing that George had left one book on the bed. It was open, and so he looked at what was written in it. It was the first time he had been seeing written English. Or the first time he had been looking inside a real book for that matter. 

“You’re interested in learning about medicine?”

He looked up to meet George’s gaze. Once again, they were standing neither too close nor too far from each other.

Medicin… so that was what he was studying. 

“Unless you’ve always wanted to become a doctor, I’m sure you’d end up getting bored of it.”

He couldn’t really understand what he said this time. He just got “you” and “I’m”. 

Well, his English level was far from being perfect. 

He was getting used to hearing English, so this already helped. 

But obviously, it had something to do with him looking at the medicine book. His book. 

Yes, logic and context helped a lot too. 

“It’s funny, the man who wrote this book was named George too,” he heard the English male say. 

That’s when he suddenly realised, he was actually talking to him without being aggressive, probably using this as a way of trying to make casual talk. 

That was making things less awkward already. 

He didn’t know whether he was forcing himself to be nice, or if he was being sincere; but did it really matter in the end? 

“Er det derfor, du ønsker at blive læge?”

_Is that why you want to become a doctor?_

He didn’t know why he spoke in Danish, the words left his mouth before he could think twice about saying them. He knew George wouldn’t understand, so this wouldn’t help with communication… he guessed he just missed speaking his native tongue. 

Of course, confusion was clear on the other male’s face. 

“What...What have you just said?”

Oh no, he was going to make things really awkward again. Well done. 

“His name’s George too,” he managed to say. “And, you study medicine too,” he was thankful he could make a few basic sentences. He just hoped George would understand what he implied by that. Well, if he was studying medicine, this meant he wasn’t stupid.

It seemed to finally dawn on him after a few instants only. 

“Oh, but I haven’t been studying medicine because of him.”

Karl just nodded. He guessed there was no point in trying to keep this conversation going on. 

He had meant his statement to be more of a joke than anything serious. He supposed it was a mere coincidence if they had the same name. 

He sat on the bed, close to the book, and stared into space. 

This short interaction was already better than nothing. 

Seconds passed, and seconds soon became minutes. And nothing happened. 

Until...he heard George sigh. 

“Don’t think I don’t like you.”

Karl glanced at him. His face was grave; he looked almost worried. 

“I mean I don’t hate you. I have nothing against you. I just...never had I thought that you’d end up here at such a time.”

Karl didn’t need to master English to understand what he meant. His body language said it all. 

“Ikke bekymre dig om det.”

 _Don’t worry about that._

Right after saying those words, he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. He put it in its usual place (the wardrobe) before making his way back towards the bed. He took the huge book and gave it to George.

“Here.”

George took it from him with a slightly puzzled expression on his face. But he didn’t say a word. 

“Good night,” Karl simply said before he lay down into bed. 

This time, he turned to lie on his side, facing the wall. 

He didn’t know whether George studied for a bit or if he read the letter again, but after some time he crawled into bed carefully. 

“Good night.”

Karl didn't move but closed his eyes. Things between them weren't so bad as of now. It could keep improving with time. 

"Godnat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!! :)
> 
> Take care and see you tomorrow night for another update! 
> 
> xoxo


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl, George, and the Hopkins family spend a whole weekend in Brighton.

During the following weekend they all went to the south of England on the coast, following Mrs. Hopkins’s suggestion. They spent it in a place called “Brighton”. Karl had never known anything at all about England’s geography, but now he knew at least the names of three places. 

He had to admit that it was nice to see the sea again. It always looked beautiful under the sun, with its shiny water. 

He liked how the beaches looked so huge, how they almost seemed to be endless. Pretty much like the sea itself. That must have been why he liked the seaside so much. This beach in Brighton looked really nice, but it was different from the one in his hometown. In his hometown, the seaside was much wilder, and that’s what made it so wonderful and magical. 

There were a few people on the beach. It wasn’t fully crowded like London’s or Copenhagen’s streets, but it wasn’t as if there were only two or three people. Not that he minded. 

They looked for a spot that wouldn’t be too close to anyone present, so they could have some sort of privacy. 

“This is such a lovely day!” Mrs. Hopkins beamed once they found one. It was neither too close to the sea nor too far from it. It was halfway between the water and the cobblestones. 

“We were right to come here today,” she then added.

No one answered to this, either because they were too lost in their own thoughts to do so.

“Well, who is hungry now?”

They all sat down on a blanket she put on the sand so they would be more comfortable. Mrs. Hopkins sat in the middle with her husband next to her and Karl on her left. Paul sat next to his father while George sat next to Karl. They all ate sandwiches Mrs. Hopkins had prepared herself the previous evening. They were simple but good. Anything she made was always so good anyway.

Everything looked so calm, almost as if the world had stopped temporarily. No one spoke. Even Mrs. Hopkins didn’t seem to be willing to make small talk. Only the noise of the waves could be heard.

As he was staring at the sea, he suddenly remembered the time when he would go to the seaside with his father and siblings, when he was a child, to bathe in the water. He had learnt to swim thanks to them. One of his happiest memories, if not the most.

Ever since they had both left home, he hadn’t gone back to swim. He had always known it wouldn’t be the same without them.

Besides he had had twice as much work with the farm to even think about leisure time. The more the better.

Had he already thought about leaving the farm for Copenhagen like them?

Yes, he had. He had tried to imagine what his life could have looked like without the farm. His brother and sister had expressed how sorry they felt for him, that he shouldn’t be the one to bear that burden, and that he should do what they did, that he could never really be happy if he remained at the farm forever with their parents.

He had pondered about it. But he simply couldn’t do this to his father. He had done so much for them.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, making him start lightly. He turned his head to see Mrs. Hopkins was the one who had her hand on it.

“Would you like some water, Carl?”

She was holding a glass bottle in her free hand.

“Yes, please.”

Once they finished eating, Paul moved away nearer to the cobblestones to smoke a cigarette. Karl watched him in silence before glancing at George. He was looking really concerned, most likely because of his best friend. Anyway, there was nothing he could do about it.

After staring at the sea for some more time, he decided to join Paul. He was sitting on the sand, taking a drag of his cigarette. Paul gave him a small smile as soon as they locked eyes, and Karl returned it. He sat next to him, on his right, and looked in the distance. They both remained silent for a little while.

“You…” Paul looked at him. “Do you have friends at war?” He needed to speak really slowly and distinctly to manage to make a proper sentence.

He asked out of curiosity more than for anything else.

“Most of my friends are my colleagues, the men I work with, whom you’ve already met. Fortunately for us, the government was clever enough to realise they need us too much to send us to fight.”

Karl just nodded. He didn’t really understand his second sentence, but he figured out the first one, and he deemed that was enough.

“I have my childhood friend who is in the RAF though. So this means he has to take part in the war.”

“The R...A...F…”

“Yes, that’s right. The Royal Air Force. He’s an officer. His name’s Arthur.”

The Royal…Air…Force…

“Look,” Paul then said, and Karl looked at him again. He pointed towards the sky.

“The Royal Air Force fight with aircrafts in the sky.” He then pointed towards the sea. “To fight on the sea with ships, we have the Royal Navy.” And then he tapped the ground next to his right foot. “And to fight on the land, it’s simply the British Army.” A pause. “We call them the British Expeditionary Force, just like in World War One.”

Karl managed to figure out what he meant, even if he didn’t know anything about fighting and armies.

“George’s best friend is a part of it.”

Karl kept quiet. Paul remained silent as well for a little while.

“What’s World War One?” Karl ended up asking him.

He waited for a few seconds before he replied as he looked at Karl straight in the eye, a grave expression plastered on his face.

“We call it ‘World War One’ because it was the first war in his tory that involved so many countries in it.” A pause. “Originally it opposed Germany to France, but then alliances were formed on both sides. “That was a war that had nothing to do with England in the first place, but the government decided to support the French and we became their allies. I still can’t really understand why though…” Another pause. “My father fought in that war. He had to go to France and leave us. I don’t really remember that time because I was only three years old when he had to leave. It’s most likely not the kind of memories you want to remember anyway.”

Karl tried to take in everything Paul had just said.

“Today it’s World War Two because it’s all started again. Not for the same reasons though.”

Karl kept quiet once again. What he understood basically is that there had been a first war, between different countries, though he couldn’t say which ones apart from England, and now they were at war again…

“For Hitler…?” He broke the silence, causing Paul to look at him again.

“Yes, because of that fucking bastard.”

“Who…Who is he?”

Karl was clearly intrigued by the man he had never seen, having only heard his name once.

“He’s an Austrian dictator who took over Germany a few years ago.”

“Austrian…”

“Yes, Austrian dictator. Sorry, you probably can’t understand everything I tell you.”

Yes, of course…unfortunately…

“I’ll show you on a map where it is. It’ll be easier.”

Map…another word he couldn’t recognise. But he wasn’t really worried about it. He couldn’t know every English word so soon. All of a sudden he remembered what his father had told him before he left home.

_And don’t worry, we’ll see each other again. I just don’t know how long it will take until you can come back home._

The more he thought about it the more likely it was that he couldn’t be back home anytime soon…

At least, if so he would have plenty of time to master English to communicate properly. It’s best to focus on positive things in this situation.

“What are you talking about?”

He recognised George’s voice and looked up to see him standing before them.

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” Paul replied.

He took another drag of his cigarette.

George didn’t say anything. He waited for a little bit before he decided to sit down next to Paul.

“What about we go for a swim in the sea?” Paul asked after the smoke dissipated in the air.

George looked at him as if he had just said something odd.

“But…we don’t have any bathing suits,” the younger male said.

“And so what if we don’t? Who said you necessarily need a bathing suit to swim?”

George didn’t reply.

“We can still swim in our underwear,” Paul added casually.

George seemed to be thinking about what he said.

“Or even naked.”

George’s jaw dropped.

“You’re kidding…”

Paul smirked at this.

“What? You’re afraid?”

“No!” He couldn’t seem to find the right words to say. “I’m not afraid! I just doubt your parents would appreciate this.”

His answer had Paul laugh.

“So you’re afraid.”

“No, I’m not!”

Paul laughed again, but louder this time.

“Stop laughing!”

“I dare you,” Paul said when he finally stopped laughing.

There was a long moment of silence that followed his words.

“I’ll do it,” George started saying, and he briefly met Karl’s gaze. “Only if he does too.”

Karl wasn’t sure what they had been talking about exactly, but he could feel it was something that had to do with him…

“Dare,” Paul said before he glanced at Karl. “But only if he wants to.”

“Dare,” George repeated.

Paul took another drag of his cigarette and looked at Karl.

“Would you like to go for a swim in the sea?” He made gestures with his hands, most likely to make himself clearer. And Karl instantly understood what he meant. “Wait, do you know how to swim?” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit as he asked this.

Before Karl could even have time to think he proceeded.

“I mean, you can swim, right?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Good. But…the thing is…you see…you’d have to do it naked…”

Karl just blinked at him as a response.

“Naked,” he tried to make gestures to try to help, but it seemed to be much more difficult this time. “Without clothes.”

He looked away from Karl to stare at George.

“I don’t think he’s going to understand the word…”

“I had a feeling he wouldn’t.”

Paul looked back at Karl after a few instants.

“Just forget about that word,” then he looked back at George. “Let’s just do this in underwear, okay?”

He looked back at Karl again. “So would you like to go for a swim?”

He hadn’t thought they had come there to swim in the sea. But then, what was the point in coming to the seaside if it’s not to swim at least once?

But it wouldn’t be the same as it used to be at home… Yet, it couldn’t be that bad either, could it?

“Selvfølgelig.”

Right after he said that he started undressing. He removed his white shirt, his braces, his singlet, his shoes, socks, and his pants. He let everything fall on the sand carelessly. And finally, he removed his underwear.

“What…what is he doing…?” He could hear George say as he did.

When he was fully naked he looked at the both of them. If he was going to swim, he wasn’t going to go alone. He would find it weird otherwise.

George looked like he had just seen a ghost, and as for Paul, well…it wasn’t long before he started bursting out into laughter.

“Dare,” he said as he looked at George once again.

Silence followed this.

“Oh no…this is going to be really awkward…” George ended up saying, still looking somehow horrified.

“Hey! You’re the one who said it, not me,” Paul interfered. “So just deal with the consequences of your own words.”

“…”

“And hurry up. Don’t let him stand here for too long like this.”

“…”

They both ended up naked in the water, again not too close to each other. The only thing that struck Karl was how George ran to get into the water, without even waiting for him.

It looked like he had never swum in the sea fully naked.

Of course, Karl already had. As if his parents could afford bathing suits. Besides, he had only bathed with his family around and no one else. But even there it seemed only natural to him, even if he wasn’t with his family.

He had to admit that feeling the cool water engulfing his body was a really nice feeling. He let his head float in the water and stared at the bright blue and cloudless sky. He forgot about everything and everyone surrounding him as he kept staring at it.

He didn’t even realise George had left the water meanwhile. After a while, he decided to get out of it. He noticed from afar that Paul and George were back to their spot with Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins.

“But…why did you and George do…this…?” Mrs. Hopkins asked as soon as he got near them. She looked absolutely horrified.

After second thought, maybe he shouldn’t have done it…

“That’s something he did back home,” Paul said. “And George wanted to give it a try.”

It seemed that Mrs. Hopkins didn’t know what to say after that.

Karl didn’t even dare look at her now. He glanced at Mr. Hopkins instead. He wasn’t as horrified as his wife was. But he didn’t look amused by it either. He quickly searched for his clothes.

“That is alright, Margaret. It is not as if we knew anyone here anyway,” he heard Mr. Hopkins say.

His clothes were nowhere in sight… He glanced at Paul because the last time he saw them, they were near him, further in the back. But the older man just winked at him with a tiny smirk. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but he felt everything was okay.

He was really thankful to have a friend like him.

***

They spent the evening and night in a house not that far away from the sea.

“This house used to belong to Robert’s parents,” Mrs. Hopkins told Karl once they had entered it.

Even if he could understand what she had just said, he simply nodded. The house seemed to be really nice, as nice as their own house in London.

“I’ll let you get settled,” she then said, making him look back at her to see her smiling at him.

It seemed that she had already forgotten what had happened earlier.

He smiled back at her and nodded again.

Quickly afterward, she moved away and was soon out of sight.

He decided to explore the house on his own. There were three bedrooms. One for Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins, one for Paul, and so this meant he would have to share this room here with George as well. Unless George preferred to share it with Paul. Not that he would mind.

He didn’t even know what room he was supposed to take.

Instead of thinking too much about this, he discovered there were two bathrooms as well. One on the ground floor and one on the first floor. Mr. Hopkins’s parents must have been really rich people.

He opted for a shower after the sea bath he had taken. Since he could use it, he might as well make good use of it.

Except that once he was in the upper floor bathroom, in the middle of undressing, someone opened the door without knocking. It was George.

“Sorry,” was all he said before he closed the door in a flash.

Was there something traumatising about seeing him half-naked?

Karl didn’t pay much thought to this. After all, it was the way they had all been made.

He shrugged and resumed undressing, but he could hear George’s voice through the door.

“Dinner’s already ready. We’ll be eating in the dining room.”

Karl just stared at the door. Wasn’t it necessary to reply anything to this?

“Not in the kitchen, the dining room,” he heard again.

Karl held back a sigh. He knew the distinction between the two. That’s part of the many things Mrs. Hopkins had taught him.

“Okay,” he just replied.

He didn’t hear the other male walk away, but he guessed he did as soon as he said that.

To his great surprise, they both arrived at the same time in the dining room.

Mrs. Hopkins grinned at them as soon as they approached the table. The only two seats that were available were next to each other. It was almost as if they were doing this on purpose, probably so it would make things easier for them to try to befriend each other. Not that Karl would be angry at them if so. Unlike the table they had in their London house, this one was round, round yet big, with just enough seats for all of them.

George and himself sat down exactly at the same time. Such a coincidentally perfect timing.

They glanced at each other. Karl hoped what had happened wouldn’t make things too awkward between them. They were already awkward enough like that. No need to make it much worse. Not when he thought things could start to get better between them. Even if they didn’t become friends.

That evening they were eating the leftovers from the previous evening’s meal. Fish, peas, and potatoes.

That moment, he thought, was the right one to ask about the bedrooms, a thing that had slipped from his mind until then.

“For the bedrooms…” he started, feeling he couldn’t make a proper sentence.

Funny how depending on the situation it could be much easier or much more difficult.

“Oh, well, Robert and I will take the one that’s downstairs. And so it’s up to you, Paul and George to see how you want to get organised.”

Karl nodded at her before focusing his gaze on Paul. The latter made eye contact with him.

“We’ll do as you two wish,” he said, glancing at George.

Karl glanced at him as well, waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t seem to be willing to say anything. Seconds were passing, and no one said anything. It seemed that everyone else was waiting for him to say something as well.

“Well, you can take the room on the left while Carl and I can take the one on the right,” he ended up saying after a little while.

Wait.

Did he really just say "Karl and I"?

This time Karl turned his head to really look at him, kind of confused.

“Alright. That’s fine with me,” Paul answered.

The thing is, George never looked back at him. No, instead he finished eating what was on his plate, seemingly ignoring him.

How curious. He thought that he would have preferred to share his room with Paul since there were two rooms. After all, from what he had seen, they seemed to be much closer than George and himself probably could ever be.

So, yeah. This was really curious.

*  
“You’re going to bed already? But it’s hardly eight-thirty.”

Karl, Paul, and George were now before their respective rooms.

“Yes,” Paul replied. “Because tomorrow morning we’ll all be up at six A.M doing some running on the beach.”

George looked annoyed after hearing that.

“Do you know that you’re not funny?”

Paul didn’t look annoyed in the least.

“Hey, I didn’t force you to share one of the rooms with him.” A pause and George didn’t look any happier. “This time you had a choice. And you chose,” Paul shrugged as he was finishing his sentence.

George kept his mouth shut as if there was nothing to be said anymore.

“Good night,” was the last thing Paul said to him. “Good night, Carl.” His tone wasn’t exactly the same as he spoke to him. There was something much warmer in it.

“Good night,” and with that Paul entered his room and closed the door behind him.

Karl looked at George who was looking down.

“Why?” Karl just asked. It was much simpler this way.

George finally looked at him.

“Why what?”

He knew he couldn’t make a proper sentence once again. So he thought about the simplest way to put it clearly.

“You and I... In the room.” He pointed at the said room. “Why?”

George remained mum as if he were looking for the right words to say.

“For continuity,” he finally said. And he entered the room swiftly, leaving the door open and Karl staring at it.

“Kontinuitet…” he muttered.

Really?

Meaning that if they had to share the same room for an undetermined span of time, they might as well remain glued to each other, no matter the circumstances. To learn to live with each other. It didn’t really matter whether his statement was true or not. That just made sense in a way. Or more simply he just wanted to make some effort after Karl had tried to leave the house. Or he felt obliged, or whatever.

He finally entered the room and closed the door. George was sitting on the bed and he chose to sit in front of him, near the pillows.

“You’re not going to study tonight?” Karl said out of the blue after a long moment of silence, not bothering to look him in the eye.

Maybe George did look at him, but he couldn’t be sure of it as he kept looking down.

“No. With Margaret, we came to an agreement that this would be a weekend without studying.”

Karl nodded as an acknowledgment.

He then scanned the room carefully, taking in every detail of it. It was more or less the same size as Paul’s former bedroom. It was sober, yet it looked refined. It looked as though it had remained untouched for many years.

He could feel George’s weight shift and disappear, meaning he had just stood up. He looked up to see him search for something in the bag he had brought with him. He didn’t bring any stuff with him, didn’t deem it necessary for just one night away. Especially when all he had with him was his old clothes and a blanket. It wouldn’t be much useful.

George quickly sat back on the bed. He showed him a small pack and Karl instantly knew what it was. Playing cards.

His siblings had taught him how to play when he had visited them in Copenhagen. When you weren’t visiting the city or doing anything else outside, it was a good way to keep yourself busy.

“Do you know how to play cards?”

“Like I can swim.”

He was looking at George this time as he spoke.

“Whist?”

“Yeah.”

They hadn’t played only one game, but three. And whist was one of them.

“Good.”

They started playing soon enough, George distributed the cards. It turned out that Karl won the four games, to George’s astonishment which pretty soon turned into anger.

“You’re cheating!!!” George kept repeating as they kept playing more and more games, making them forget the time that was passing.

Instead of making Karl upset, his attitude pretty amused him actually. It had him grin, maybe not like a fool, but it seemed to be enough to make George even angrier than he already was. He had to hold himself back from laughing.

“Just stop cheating!!! That’s not the way we play it!!! Where did you learn to play?!”

“In Copenhagen,” he replied naturally after taking a bit of time to compose himself.

The English male only stopped shouting to glare at him. Karl simply shrugged at him.

“Det er den danske måde.”

 _That’s the Danish way_.

But George’s facial expression remained the same. He looked away, focusing on the game again. After a little while, he could George let out an exasperated sigh.

“And stop speaking Danish. I can’t understand a word of it. And it’s not as if I wanted to learn anyway.”

Karl remained focused on the game again, even though he could figure out what he meant basically.

“You know, I don’t want to share the same bed as a cheater.”

Karl stifled a laugh as his grin made its way back on his face.

“Go with Paul,” he shrugged again, glancing up at him. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t teasing him a little bit.

“Yes. Exactly. That’s what I’m gonna do. Right after we finish this game.”

Once that game was over, George practically stormed out of the room. No need to explain why, of course.

“And for continuity?” Karl said before he could leave the room.

George was opening the door as he said that and he suddenly stopped in his movement.

“Just forget about it!”

After that, he left the room, slamming the door. And Karl burst into laughter. He ended up lying on his back on the pillows, unable to control himself anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been like this, finding something so funny and laughing so much.

He had a feeling that Paul would find that really funny too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> Sorry, I kind of forgot to publish yesterday...I got back from work late and I had a bad night....which made me forget most things I had to think about 😅
> 
> So as a way to apologise again, here you go with two more chapters :) 
> 
> Enjoy!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl goes out with Mrs. Hopkins to help with charity work...

“Ladies, let me introduce you to Carl.”

As you may have guessed, Mrs. Hopkins was the one to say that.

They had both gone into the city centre during the following week, and not during the day, but in the evening.

He was greeted with warm "Hello’s", "Hi’s", and "Nice to meet you’s".

They met with seven women, who were probably some of Mrs. Hopkins’s friends. They were in some sort of building that looked like a shop, an empty workshop.

“So Carl, this is Ruth, Martha, Edith, Emily, Charlotte, Julia, and Mary.”

Karl examined each of their faces before he smiled at them.

“Nice to meet you all.”

The women were obviously really happy to meet him and were most likely like Mrs. Hopkins in terms of character and personality. Well if they weren’t, how could they really be good friends?

“Come on, let’s take a seat and get started. It will be better to discuss.”

They formed a circle as they were sitting; it was better to have a view of everyone. And it turned out that they were actually making blankets and clothing. He guessed they were doing this without expecting any money back for their work, and that it was just some kind of charity work to help the poor. Because unlike what he thought, it seemed that there were not only wealthy and upper-class people in London.

He could remember how he had already come to help her the same day when he had first met George. They had distributed food (quite a lot) to people who obviously needed it badly. That’s when he had learnt that Mrs. Hopkins actually had her own garden, which enabled her to grow her own vegetables. It wasn’t that big a garden. But it was enough to make good reserves of vegetables. And that’s what she was using her dining room for actually. She had turned it into a special room to stock everything she had in the best conditions as possible. And this way every week people could have fresh vegetables.

He thought that it was an excellent initiative. That’s why he was more than willing and really glad to help her.

“Don’t worry. It’s a bit difficult at first, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes really easy!” One of Mrs. Hopkins’s friends chirped (he couldn’t put the name on her face though…), and he could perfectly picture Mrs. Hopkins saying it hadn’t her friend said it first.

He had never knitted even once in his life, had never learnt. He had already seen both his mother and sister do it, but that was all. They used the sheep’s wool to make woolen blankets and sell them, and also for their personal use. This was absolutely great because of their incredible warmth, especially during wintertime. But he had never helped with that because his mother considered it was a women’s work only.

And of course, he had never questioned this. Until that time.

His mother had always helped with all the rest of the work at the farm, and so had his sister before she left. But with this, the men couldn’t help. It seemed a little bit weird.

Anyway, he didn’t care whether it was a women’s work only. If he could help, he would keep doing it as long as it’d be necessary.

“Here, you see! You’re already starting to get it!”

“Of course, he is. He is a very fast learner.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised to hear it,” another woman chimed in.

“What makes you say so?” Again, another one did.

“Well, otherwise she wouldn’t have brought him here with her, would you have, Margaret?”

“Hadn’t he been, I still would’ve brought him here. He needs to get out of the house, but not only that. There’s something about him that makes you want not to leave him alone. He does need his privacy too though, I’m quite aware of it!”

She turned her head to look at him as she stopped right in the middle of knitting.

“Oh, by the way, I’m so sorry to talk about you as if you weren’t there. I really hope you don’t mind. There’s no bad intention about it, you know.”

Before he could even try to make out the different words, she spoke again.

“I am really glad that you’ve accepted to help me, and to help us. It really means so much to me. Paul, Robert, and George are too busy with their own work to help me, and I am quite aware that your situation is not exactly the best to be in the mood to help foreigners…but you are a very courageous youth.”

Without understanding perfectly everything she had just said, he knew what she meant. The tone of her voice, that look in her eyes. It was all too familiar to him by now. He could never be mistaken about it.

As he smiled the warmest smile he could manage, he told her:

“Du har allerede gjort så meget for mig.”

_You’ve already done so much for me._

And yes, he had done it again, but he still didn’t feel that confident to make long sentences in English. Making a mistake wasn’t the problem. But if he really didn’t remember or know some of the words in English, he couldn’t make them up…

“Sorry…” he trailed off, but Mrs. Hopkins was quick to reassure him.

“It’s okay. I think I know why you’re doing this anyway.” A pause. “Besides, I really love it whenever you speak Danish.”

“Yes, this is such a nice language!”

“Much nicer than German.”

“Definitely.”

Karl smiled at her. He should have remembered it was never necessary to apologise to her.

He looked down and went back to knitting. The women chatted happily, while he was too focused on what he was doing to even listen to what they were saying, and try to figure it out.

“We spent a really nice weekend in Brighton,” were the only words that caught his attention at some point.

That weekend in Brighton. He really liked it. He already missed the sea. But they would probably have some other opportunities to go back there.

George had spent the whole Sunday not saying a word to him, not able to come to terms with losing all the games. The day had passed rather quickly. They had enjoyed the city again in the morning and left early in the afternoon, certainly not to go back home too late.

After quite a while, the women stopped working and served some tea and some small sandwiches. Karl was not unhappy to have a break. He needed to get used to doing this. He had managed to make a small patch at least. This was already better than nothing.

Mrs. Hopkins was obviously quite satisfied with the work he had done. So this was enough of a reward for him.

They left to get back to the house before it got too late.

“I have not told you before, but I had already helped in the war effort during the first world war. Thank God, Robert’s parents and my own were there to look after Paul.”

Karl just looked at her in silence, observing her facial features. He could understand more or less what she was talking about, but wouldn’t know what to reply. There were just some kinds of conversations which he wasn’t very good at. And war was amongst them. Yes, because that’s something he still wasn’t familiar with.

“I used to work in a munitions factory.”

Factory. That was a word he had never heard before. Neither had he heard ‘weapons’ for that matter.

“Since almost all the men were gone to France to fight, we had to replace them at work. And after that, women are still not considered equal to men. Even though we were granted the right to vote, most men still think we aren’t as capable as them. But we did as much as they did. Even when the work was particularly hard, we endured and held our heads high. We kept the industry going. If we hadn’t, the economic consequences would have been much worse than they were.”

He could sense the strong and intense emotion in her voice as she spoke. It sounded as though there was a tiny hint of pain in it that was hardly discernible, showing all the suffering she had gone through.

“For now this is only the beginning, but if this war drags on too, the toughest is to come sooner than what we think.”

It was clear that she was worried.

“If I have to work in a factory once again, then I am ready to do it again.”

Now it was determination.

“Fortunately, they did not send all the men to fight to their own deaths this time. They had the brains to exempt all of these who are needed for key industries. Thank God Paul did not have to go. He was lucky to be a part of them. Robert could not have stood it.”

Her words were followed by silence, not an awkward kind of silence, but rather the kind of silence that’s necessary before you can speak again.

“His son is everything to him.”

It seemed obvious that she was talking about things that were very personal. She didn’t have to though. But then maybe she just needed to talk to someone whom she knew wouldn’t judge or would keep their mouth shut about it, like a box full of secrets that would never be revealed.

“I can’t help thinking about how much your own parents must be worried about you. They can’t even know you are with us. You know, I have been thinking that perhaps you could try to write a letter to them. So that they can know at least that you are not homeless and doing well. I know the country is annexed, But the Nazis can’t be controlling all the mail Danish people receive.”

His parents…

“They must have better things to do,” she added. “Besides, I doubt that they can read, let alone understand Danish.”

Nazis. He had learnt what that word actually meant. Thanks to Paul.

“But if you will, we will see that more in detail tomorrow.”

So if he had understood well, she basically wanted him to write to his parents.

Of course, he would do that. The problem was that…well, he had never been taught how to write or to read. Since he had never had any kind of education at all. What would be the point in learning when you were destined for farm work for the rest of your life?

Counting was useful, but both of these weren’t.

He suspected his siblings had learnt by themselves in secret at some point, each in turn, even if they hadn’t been able to attend school before they finally decided to leave home for good. But they had never talked about that.

Being able to speak Danish well enough was already a good thing.

~ 

It was already dark by the time they got home.

After bidding goodnight to Mrs. Hopkins, Karl went directly to the room he was still sharing with George, despite the other’s reluctance to share it after that weekend. But Karl just shrugged it off, thinking it would eventually pass.

When he entered it, he found George sitting against the pillow that he had put against the headboard, his legs stretched on the whole bed, and his nose still in one of his books. He had brought a lot of books with him, and for him, they were just all the same.

One glance from him showed he acknowledged at least his presence.

“I heard that you were helping Margaret.” He didn’t look up as he said that.

Karl remained silent, standing near the bed.

George put the book down on his lap.

“If you really like to help, then you can come help at the university too.”

See. He knew it would happen. Too bad because he could have no longer so much fun now.

“The higher-ups still fear the Boche might launch a surprise aerial attack at any time. We’ve been waiting for it to happen for months now. But still nothing. So this can’t mean anything good.”

His tone was too neutral, solemn to discern any kind of emotion behind it, same with the look on his face. It almost looked like indifference. 

“They’ve been trying to turn the university into some kind of giant bunker to avoid the maximum of casualties when it happens. They even thought about evacuating the students to another city. But what would be the point in it anyway? Here or elsewhere they will still bomb us. And they’re not stupid.”

He had taken his book back in his hands by the time he finished speaking.

Karl was still silent, trying to figure out everything.

“So, would you like to come and help us? It’s already complicated enough for us to juggle with studies and this.”

They met each other’s gaze for a few seconds only before Karl went to sit at the end of the bed.

The question was simple. And there was no need for him to hesitate.

“I’ll come.”

George looked at him as if he were trying to read what was on his mind, which was pretty understandable. It’s not as if it would be the first time if so.

“Sure? Because there’ll be no going back on your words.”

“I’m sure.”

He kept doing it.

“Tomorrow then?”

No hesitation either for that.

“Tomorrow.”

He still had the same look on his face, his gaze still fixed on him.

“Alright,” he said as he sat up all of a sudden. “But for now…”

He was up in a flash, put his book away, took something out of the drawer of the piece of furniture that had been put there recently, and went back quickly to sit on the bed, but not in the same position this time.

“Let’s play again. And we’ll see who’ll win this time.”

Of course, he couldn’t help smiling and didn’t want to stop.

“Keep smiling while you can, because you won’t be smiling for that long.”

And so they played again. They played several games like last time.

And the same thing happened again.

“Wipe that smug smile off your face!!!”

It was a very good thing he had offered to play again. He could have some more fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go!
> 
> You know, actually, I can't believe people out there across the world are reading my work. It seems crazy...
> 
> Well, anyway, have a good night, or day :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl and Paul go back to the pub with George to see Emma

The week after, one evening, they went back to see Emma at the pub, but this time George came with them.

They had gone there several times between the time Karl had met her for the first time and that time. It’s not as if they had gone every evening, but even when it wasn’t once in a week, Emma was always really happy when she saw them enter the place.

“Here’s my favourite Danish boy!” She exclaimed as she practically ran toward them to embrace him, something he was starting to get used to by that time, even if it was still somewhat hard to have the reflex to hug her back.

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you again too,” Paul said.

She looked at him as she still had her arms around Karl’s neck.

The boy could see a grin appear on her face after she stepped back.

“I knew it; you’re getting jealous.”

“Pff…it’s not as if he could ever love you back.”

Emma kind of glared at him.

She remained quiet as if silence was enough to communicate what was on her mind.

Paul raised her brows at her, certainly amused by her reaction which he had intended to trigger, even though he wasn’t showing it.

“Come on! Relax a bit! You know I’m just kidding! Just play along! Otherwise, it’s not funny, you know,” Paul broke it after a few moments.

Emma smirked only after a few seconds.

“I know this, I just like glaring at you from time to time.”

Paul raised one eyebrow at her, looking rather puzzled this time.

“That’s funny for me, you know,” she added, grinning again, showing her perfect white teeth.

Paul shook his head at her.

“Joking aside, you remember George, don’t you?” He spoke gesturing at the said male.

Paul was standing between the two younger males, and was there a particular reason for this? How could he ever know?

“George…” A pause. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh yes! George! Oh my God, it’s been quite a while since the last time I saw you! How are you? You changed your glasses, didn’t you?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” but he looked rather indifferent as he said it. “Oh yes, it’s been a little while since I changed them. I’ve been wearing these since I got sixteen.” 

“Oh, I was sure they weren’t the same as last time!”

“Hence the reason why you didn’t recognise him instantly,” Paul chimed in.

“Exactly,” Emma confirmed, her answer almost sounding a bit stern.

Karl smiled. The way they acted with each other was endearing and amusing at the same time. He couldn’t deny that in some way Emma reminded him of Mrs. Hopkins. She wasn’t exactly like her, but still.

“Even if I changed the glasses, I didn’t change that much…” George spoke again.

They all looked at him as if he had just said something out of place.

The silence seemed to be dragging on, and it seemed to make George feel more and more uncomfortable the longer it lasted.

“Oh, I know! It’s the hair cut! It wasn’t exactly the same. And your hair was longer!”

“It was,” Paul confirmed.

“You look much more like a man now,” Emma then said, smiling.

Karl smiled back at her, even though it was a very small smile, a smile that seemed almost to be forced.

“I’m not quite so much of a man just yet.”

Both Emma and Paul didn’t reply anything to that, as though they were too taken aback by his words to find anything to say.

“Well, you’re quite close to it, I mean, how old are you now?” Emma ended up saying, most likely to avoid the kind of awkward silence to drag on too much.

“Twenty.”

“See? You are of legal age to drink!” Emma said smiling, “Good thing you didn’t have to go to fight-“

“Enough now, just leave him alone. You’re talking too much. What about you offer us something to drink?” Paul interfered, and after that Karl didn’t listen anymore. He got lost in thought instead.

He could clearly see that George had been making some real effort to be…well let’s say more sociable. He wasn’t skipping any dinner anymore, but he didn’t eat that much either. It always seemed to be a real obstacle to overcome for him every time. It was as though it was impossible for the food to go through his throat. Well, he still studied a lot because he needed to, but he made the effort to come there while he could have refused.

He definitely couldn’t be sure of it as long as he wouldn’t see it, but he felt that had the situation been different, he wouldn’t have acted like that at all. He felt that he wasn’t like that, that he was a completely different kind of person than what he had been shown until now, and that luck just wasn’t on his side.

“Carl?”

He could feel a hand on his shoulder as he instantly recognised Paul’s voice. Karl looked at him and saw that Emma and George weren’t near them any longer.

“Are you coming or what?” He said, grinning.

Karl said nothing because he just didn’t know what to say.

“You can get lost in thought very easily,” he spoke again, a big smile still plastered on his face. “Come, this way.”

He led him toward the same table they had sat at the first time he had taken him there. The table where they had sat the few other times as well. It was like their assigned and privileged spot as if no one else could sit there, although he couldn’t check whether someone else would sit there when they weren’t.

He sat next to George as Paul sat in front of him. Emma soon came into view with a trail in one hand. She brought three glasses, before she sat next to Paul, facing Karl.

As she started chatting with Paul, both he and George kept quiet. Karl stole glances at him. He was staring into the distance, being there physically but his mind probably elsewhere, somewhere far away. He was probably thinking about his best friend. Or could he be thinking about his family? Karl still knew nothing about them.

Even if he could, he wouldn’t ask Paul or his parents. If he had to learn anything about them, he would have to learn it from George’s own mouth.

He stole another glance at him.

Perhaps he regretted coming there in the end.

He stared down at the glass before him, his arms crossed on the wooden table. This time it couldn’t be anything other than water as the liquid was transparent. He took the glass in his left hand and drank some of it. Yes, it was water. Lukewarm and still water. But it was still good.

He saw Emma stand up and leave the table as soon as he put it down. And he saw the way her hand slid from Paul’s shoulder to his upper arm, the way she smiled. He hid the hint of a smile as he turned his head slightly in George’s direction, even though he didn’t look or glance at him. He looked down at the table, or rather at his elbow.

“What are you waiting for?” He heard George suddenly ask, making him glance at him.

Paul raised one eyebrow at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why haven’t you married her yet?”

Paul made a sound that was similar to a sigh.

“I should have known you were referring to this.”

“And so? Why?”

Paul stared at him as if he were trying to stare into his soul with that simple look.

“You know, my mother’s already nosy enough like that, so I don’t need you to start with that too.”

Karl glanced at George again. A kind of crooked smile made its way on his lips.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His tone was rather grave, but there was something taunting in it, something hardly discernible if you didn’t listen really carefully to the sound of his voice.

Paul clearly looked annoyed, and for some reason, it amused Karl. Just like the way George’s reaction to losing to playing cards had.

“I don’t interfere in your love life,” Paul pointed out.

“Because there’s nothing interesting in it,” came George’s answer in a flash.

Paul nodded in a way that kind of said it was hard for him to believe what he had just heard.

“Because you think mine is more interesting. Seriously?”

George shrugged nonchalantly.

“It can’t be worse.” A pause. “And it’s much funnier to tease you about yours.”

Paul scoffed.

“Just like it’s so funny to hear you lose to Carl at playing cards,” the older man retorted.

Now George was the one who had that look on his face. Or no, it was even more intense. Literally as if he wished he could tear him to shreds. His lips pressed to form a thin line, and his jaw clenched.

As for Paul, he looked all satisfied with himself.

“Don’t play that game when you know you can’t win.”

But this was probably not the good thing to say.

“Well,” Paul said as he put both hands on the table. “I’m gonna leave you alone for a bit, just for you to calm down.”

He stood up instantly after saying that and walked away, God knows where.

Things were still the same as they were earlier before George started talking. It’s as if Karl was invisible, but the Danish boy still couldn’t hold it against him.

After a little while, he could see Emma approaching the table again.

“Is everything alright?” She asked, looking somewhat worried as she did.

“Yes,” Karl simply replied, as if nothing had just happened.

She smiled at him, a small but warm smile.

“Would you like anything to eat?” She then asked as her eyes travelled between the two males.

“Not for me,” George was the first one to reply. “But if you had some booze that you could bring to me, that’d be nice.”

Emma smiled at him.

“Sure.”

“Could you bring some for him as well?”

Emma’s smile dropped from her face, seemingly a bit surprised by his question.

“For him too… are you sure?”

There was a short moment of silence before he replied.

“I can pay for both of us if that’s a problem.”

“No…” she shook her head slightly. “That’s not the problem. It’s just that I’m not sure whether he’s eighteen or not, you see…”

“It’s only a number. Does it really matter whether he’s one year younger or older?”

“Yes, it does. Because I could get into trouble if-”

“No one will rat you out for it. People have problems that are much more important than this.”

But Emma definitely looked skeptical.

“Shouldn’t you ask Paul before to be sure?”

“Paul isn’t his father, and it’s not as if he were a child, right?”

Poor Emma was clearly at a loss for words.

“Just one glass. We're not gonna get drunk if that’s what you fear.”

“Even one glass is too much.”

Paul was back, and everyone went silent.

“It’s okay, Emma, you can go back to work, I’ll deal with it,” was what he said before sitting back.

She nodded and walked away without looking back.

“No alcohol for either of you,” Paul was firm, and you could feel that no one or nothing would make him change his mind. “Not even a single drop.”

George looked like he was pouting. He just kept his mouth shut as he was looking away from the table.

“Are you really serious? Making him drink while it’s clear he’s still underage?”

Karl didn’t think the scolding tone was going to help make things any better.

“And how can you be sure he’s not eighteen yet?! Do you have an official paper or something that proves it?”

Paul kept staring at him and remained silent for a little while.

“Do you really think booze will help you solve your problems?”

George didn’t say a thing.

Paul sighed.

“Listen, if there’s one thing I learnt since the time I started drinking, it’s that alcohol will only make them worse.”

“I didn’t want to get drunk!” He retorted to defend himself.

“Don’t lie!” A pause. “I know you too well.” Another one. “And I know all too well how it goes.”

He got silent again.

“Listen, as long as he stays here with us, I am responsible for him when my parents are not there. Same thing with you.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”

Paul contemplated him in silence for a few instants.

“It doesn’t matter. Even if you’re twenty now, you still have quite a lot to learn, you don’t even know one percent-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Could you please stop acting as if you were my father? Because you’re not. And I’m not a complete reckless idiot.”

Same thing again.

“Pain can make us do dumb things sometimes.” His tone was solemn, and it was a bit strange to see him act so serious. He looked and sounded much more like his father this way.

“Whatever.”

Paul looked truly concerned, and it seemed to be vital for him to lighten the mood in any way he could come up with.

“Tell me, Carl, how old are you?” He ended up asking.

“He’s been living with you for what…? Practically a month, and you still haven’t checked his age?” George interfered, still looking and sounding a bit angry, or rather a bit reproachful.

“That’s because we’ve been waiting for him to have at least a basic understanding of English.”

The older man focused his attention back on Karl.

“I’m twenty-eight,” he said as he pointed at himself, “and he’s twenty.”

Mrs. Hopkins had taught him how to count in English. So it wouldn’t be a problem for him to answer. He knew well how to count to a hundred. How? Well, simply because the system was quite simple. Once you know how to count to twenty, it becomes a real piece of cake. You just have to learn and memorise tens: twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety, hundred, and then you just have to add one, two, three, and so on.

Pretty much like in Danish.

“I’m seventeen,” came his reply.

Even though he didn’t have a calendar back home to get his bearings in the notion of time, he always knew the day when it was his birthday, because it was the only day of the year when he was allowed to have a full day and night off. Yes, because it happened often that he had to work until very late in the evening.

But this year, he hadn’t had his day off yet. So technically he was still seventeen as of now.

June 4th. That was his birthdate. A date he could never forget along with those of his siblings.

“It depends on what month he was born,” he heard George say.

“What year were you born in? 1922 or 1923?”

Karl stared at him in silence.

“No, what month?”

He glanced at George who was looking at him.

She had taught him months too. The English ones weren’t that different from the Danish ones, so this really helped.

“Juni, June,” he corrected himself, trying to get the pronunciation right.

“So he will turn eighteen soon, see? No need to make all that fuss just for one glass of booze.”

Maybe he was finally going to change his mind because he looked like someone who thought about changing their mind.

“Just one pint for each. And with some food otherwise nothing,” he ended up saying.

“Don’t look so mad. There’s a first time for everything.”

~

The three males ended up at the same piano as the first time when Karl discovered the pub, Paul sitting between him and George.

He had tasted what they called “beer”. The taste was unlike anything he had tasted before, but it wasn’t that bad in the end.

“I taught him how to play.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Karl discovered that George could play the piano too, and as well as Paul.

“Didn’t I help you practice when you were around eight years old? I think I did.”

“Since when help means teach? Yes, you helped me practice. But you didn’t teach me. That’s the difference.”

“But I was the first one to show you how to play before you started learning. Did you forget?”

“No, I didn’t. But then I had my own teacher.”

As they were talking, Karl thought about his brother. Or rather about the relationship he had with him. He was the kind of brother who liked very much to tease him. And also who had a real gift for making him play up when he was a kid.

He could remember once when he had been gushing blood after a bad fall. Not that his brother had meant for things to turn out this way. It had just been an accident. But a pretty bad one. His parents had been really mad at the elder for it, and he would have got a real thrashing hadn’t their sister been there to reason them and prevent them from touching him. Fortunately, he had become wiser with time, even though he still liked teasing him occasionally.

Nothing like their sister who had a real maternal instinct. She had always been protective of him, surely because he was much younger than her and their brother. A trait she had most likely inherited from their father. The way she was so soft with him. His mother had been protective of him, but she had a different way of showing it. She wasn’t that soft.

“Then just teach him how to play, so you’ll be able to brag about it in the future.”

“I didn’t wait for you to have this idea.”

Karl was glad he could learn something new, even if he didn’t have any particular interest in the piano. He would feel a bit less stupid.

~

Emma had been watching them from afar, just like the first time when she had met Carl. There was something really moving about them being together.

Paul joined her at the counter. And she gave him a fond smile as soon as he was in front of her, leaning on it.

“I think I will really miss him when he leaves…” she said, the expression of her face matching the tone of her voice. “I may have not known him for a long while, but he’s really endearing.”

Paul gave her a kind of smug look.

“You’re only saying this because I was the one to introduce him to you.”

“I am the kind of woman who becomes attached to living beings very easily.”

“Living beings, really?”

“Yes, animals too, not only human beings.”

Paul hummed in response.

“Just like that time when you found that stray puppy and were ready to adopt it, but your father wouldn’t let you.”

“Thank you for reminding me of this. It made me sick that I couldn’t keep him.”

Paul laughed whole-heartedly.

“Old good times.”

“Anyway, back to Carl, it’s good that George can make a new friend.”

But Paul didn’t seem to share his opinion, given the look on his face.

“It’s not as if they were as thick as thieves. And I don’t think it will happen anytime soon… I mean they don’t hate each other, and at least George has been making some effort so living with each other can go well.”

Emma couldn’t help the smile that brightened her face.

“You know what they say: Be slow in choosing a friend, slower in changing.”

And of course, she had already anticipated Paul’s reaction, the way he looked at her.

“Such wise words from such a wise woman.”

“Of course, only quality words. You know I hate saying nonsense.”

Paul turned his head to look at them. And so did Emma. They were still at the piano by that time.

They both looked away to stare into each other’s eyes.

“I really hope you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> I'm updating sooner today because I'll be busy with Christmas Eve. So enjoy!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl goes back with Paul to his work. George still doesn't have any news about his friend who's at war and Mrs. Hopkins wants Karl to write a letter to his family but realises that he can't write...

“Morning, Margaret.”

“Good morning, George.”

Another week, another day, another morning.

“Have I received any mail?”

“No, not this morning, dear.”

George was visibly upset because of the negative answer. He let out a loud sigh, earning him a sympathetic look from Mrs. Hopkins.

“He should have already written to me.”

Karl didn’t fail to notice how he grew more and more preoccupied as the days passed. He was too worried to even realise that Karl noticed it.

“Don’t worry about it. He most likely has not had enough time to write another letter yet. He must have been so busy that he couldn’t when he should have. But I’m sure he’ll write as soon as he can. That’s just how war is. It makes you delay, delay, delay. And sometimes all the wait can become quickly unbearable. But I’m sure your friend is alright.”

There was this motherly, reassuring tone in her voice that his mother should have been the one to use. She should have been with him to speak these soft words to him.

He could hear another sigh, but quieter this time.

“I hope so. I really do.”

“Trust me. The missing of news does not necessarily mean that something bad happened.”

Her words were followed by silence. And he had the look Karl could notice from time to time in his brown eyes. A look that said that he wasn’t convinced.

“Most of the time it does.”

Karl could see in her eyes her will to help, but what she had been saying was probably not enough to reassure him.

“As long as it cannot be confirmed, you should not be thinking about it. This is the worst thing you can do.”

It still didn’t seem to be enough.

“And how can you not think about it?”

Mrs. Hopkins didn’t quite seem to have the answer to his question.

“You have to focus on something else, think about it as if it were the only thing that really mattered, and when I say ‘focus’, I mean focus really hard.” There was a pause that was appropriate with her solemn words. “That’s the only way.”

Her words were followed by another moment of silence that didn’t seem to ease the unspoken tension.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do for months now.”

She gave him a small, but confident smile.

“Then just keep doing it. And don’t forget that you always have an experienced ear to talk to if you need it.”

He most likely forced himself to smile back, his worry obviously still getting the best of him.

“Thanks.”

Her smile grew bigger.

“Look, here,” she said as she got closer to the kitchen counter. “I prepared you some small snack that you will be able to eat on your way to university.”

This smile looked much more genuine.

“Double thanks. You’re really the best, Margaret.”

This time, she showed her teeth as she was grinning.

“There, that’s the George I like. That we all like, I should say,” she said as she pinched his cheek.

“See you tonight,” he said before leaving the kitchen.

“See you. Have a good day!”

“You too!” He shouted most likely from the hall.

There was silence again, but it wasn’t too long before it was broken anyway.

“Thank God you have no one close to you who is fighting in this war.”

He could hear the small hint of sadness and despair in her voice as she mentioned the word war.

He gave her a small smile because he was realising this particular word was worrying him more and more as time passed. It seemed that it was everywhere. Even when it wasn’t said out loud. Or maybe he was simply exaggerating a bit too much. It’s not as if England had been invaded like his own country was… But then it wouldn’t be war anymore, would it?

He was quick to finish his breakfast and to wash his own dishes before he bid goodbye to Mrs. Hopkins and headed outside. As soon as he opened the door, he saw Paul.

“Hey. You don’t wear a watch, but you’re always right on time, that’s quite impressive.”

Karl smirked at him.

“Shall we go?”

“Don’t you want to say hello to your mother first?”

“Oh, no need to, I’ll see her tonight.”

Karl nodded and they walked away from the house.

He had been coming more often and often at Paul’s workplace lately, almost every day. Almost because every day may have been a bit too much. Sometimes, Paul even happened to work on weekends he realized a little while ago. He went along really well with all the men and really liked being there. They had already adopted him, he thought he could say, and according to Paul, when he wasn’t there they would even ask every time: “Carl isn’t with you today?”

Time flew by way too quickly every time. It was already time for break before he knew it. This was a good opportunity to chat, crack jokes, and laugh - Obviously- a sacred time during which war didn’t matter any longer.

Even if he couldn’t understand everything that they said, it didn’t prevent him from sharing their laughs. Their good humor was catching.

He was thankful Paul wasn’t forced to go to war like George’s best friend. Really, really thankful.

Speaking of George, it was a sheer mystery to him why he wasn’t at war like him. The question had been puzzling him for a little while now, but only did he think about asking Paul that day, as they were chilling out after work, far from the house. Well by that he meant not completely at the opposite of the city, but far enough to have to have one good hour walk. Or less if they walked faster than the average pace. They were sitting down on top of some London building from where they had a rather nice view. And they were in the northern part of the city, a part he had already seen when he first arrived.

“Paul?”

The sun was near setting. They had left work a bit late that evening, for they were busy with so much work.

“Yes?”

They met each other’s gaze.

“Why…George…why isn’t he…at war?”

It seemed that Paul hadn’t expected him to ask this question, or maybe it was just his own perception that was wrong. He could never be sure. No matter how good he thought he had got to read people’s body language ever since he’d been staying with the Hopkins family.

“He can’t see a thing without his glasses.”

Glasses… That word didn’t ring a bell. But shouldn’t he remember it if he had heard it before? Well, he had assimilated so many words already that maybe his brain was just omitting it temporarily.?

“Glasses. You know, the thing you wear on your face when your sight needs to be corrected,” he circled his eyes with his index fingers to help.

And instantly it clicked in his mind.

How did he know the word? That’s very simple. (Yes, because you probably wouldn’t expect a farm boy that came from a place about which most likely nobody in London had ever heard to know what glasses were).

His father had once told him during his childhood that his grand-uncle had sight problems. He couldn’t see right anything that was near him. But his father had told him that they couldn’t afford glasses to make him see right. So he had had to manage to work without their help. Which he had managed to do somehow, but he couldn’t witness it with his own eyes.

Karl nodded to show he had understood.

“How do you say it in Danish?”

“Briller.”

Paul tried to repeat it as well as Karl pronounced it, but it was pretty hard to imitate a foreign accent when you didn’t know the language. There was something nice in the English accent though. It sounded smoother compared to Danish.

“I’m not sure it’ll be much use to me if I ever go to Denmark.”

Karl smirked. With the tone he used and the look in his eyes, he could tell that this was a form of teasing.

“No,” he said as he looked away from Paul, the same smirk still on his face.

As he glanced at him, he could see him smirk too.

There were hardly ten seconds of silence after that.

“Back to George, he could have never gone to fight. Imagine with a bomb attack or just one wrong move…anything could have easily happened to his glasses, and without them, it would have been worse than if he had been wounded…even if he had volunteered, no one would have ever accepted him into the army with so bad an eyesight.”

Karl didn’t say a thing as he was staring down at the ground. The silence lasted for a few moments.

“It’s a bit similar to Kipling’s son, except that even he didn’t have so bad an eyesight. Do you know Kipling?” He asked as he turned his head to look at Karl.

Karl shook his head no.

“Rudyard Kipling. He was an English writer. My father admired his writing style, still does, but he loathed him for being pro-war.”

He figured out the author part, but the words admired and loathed prevented him from understanding the opinion of Paul’s father about him.

“Because you’re a good writer doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re a good person. And even the concept of ‘good person’ is actually hard to define in itself.”

Karl kept looking down, replaying the words in his mind. He thought he had just figured out what Paul had said about his father.

“The people who consider themselves as good think that what they do is good when objectively it isn’t necessarily that good, and the same goes with the people that are considered bad by good people. They think what they do is the right thing to do. But people are biased most of the time.”

What could Karl have replied to that?

He honestly had no idea.

“You know what I think? I think there is no such thing as right or wrong properly speaking. I think it’s just all a matter of perspective.”

Perspektiv…

“We’re just all human beings, with our flaws and quirks. No one is better than another one. Fuck the Nazis with the idea of the perfect race. There is no such thing as perfect in human beings.”

The colours of the sunset drew a beautiful contrast with Paul’s solemn tone. 

Karl found this idea of a “perfect race” a bit confusing. He had never been told about any of this, so obviously, it was time he started questioning the world around him. He wasn’t sure whether it would be really useful. But his curiosity was getting the best of him.

He probably still had plenty of time to figure everything out anyway. 

***

“Carl, I don’t mean to insist, let alone pressure you in any way. But you know about the letter, are you sure you really don’t want to write to your family?” She asked him as she put down a cup of tea in front of him.

They were having a small break in the middle of the morning.

Oh yes, right. The letter. It had slipped out of his mind until now. He had tried to decline as politely as possible when she had first wanted him to do it, but if she really kept on insisting, what could he really do?

Normally, she wasn’t supposed to know that he had never been sent to school, unless she had figured it out, but it didn’t seem to be the case. And for some unknown reason that he himself didn’t fully understand, he didn’t really want her to know. Yes, these people were from a much higher social background than him, but he wasn’t really ashamed of his. He had been taught not to be.

“It won’t take that long. Look, here are some paper and ink.”

She may have been really sweet, but she definitely wanted him to write.

“Don’t be afraid. Nothing can happen to you here.”

As usual, her tone was reassuring, warm, soothing.

He stared at the white paper as if it suddenly were the most interesting thing in the world, not knowing what to do now. He guessed words wouldn’t be enough to convince her. So he just kept staring at it for a long moment until Margaret spoke again. And he didn’t even spare her one single glance.

“Carl…” she seemed to finally figure it out. He did glance at her, as a form of acknowledgment. “You can write, can’t you?” She sounded utterly distressed as she said that, a bit shocked too.

He didn’t need to answer anything. He was sure the look he gave her was enough as such.

“You have never been to school…?”

He gave her the exact same look again.

“Your parents have never taught you, have they?”

“…”

Okay, now the silence between every question was becoming kind of a bit awkward…

He looked down at his hands that were on his lap. He heard the sound of a chair moving, light footsteps, and soon the light pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He watched Margaret take a seat beside him from the corner of his eye.

“That’s fine if you don’t know how to read or how to write. You should not be ashamed of it.”

Karl looked at her. There was still that softness in her eyes. Of course, she wouldn’t judge him. How could she judge anyone with such faith in humanity?

“I am sorry…I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable, let alone ashamed of yourself and your family.” The grip on his shoulder tightened a bit more.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t think it was necessary.

“You know, I can teach you to read and write in English. Even if I cannot do it for Danish, it will already be quite an achievement. Learning to read and write in one’s mother tongue is already a hard challenge, so if you succeed in doing this for English, this will be much greater. I’m sure your family will be very proud of you.”

“P…pwwaoud…”

“Yes, proud,” she repeated with a bright grin.

He just blinked to show he didn’t get it.

“You know, it means your parents will be happy for you, happy to know that their son managed such a great achievement.”

Happy, sad. He knew the difference and what both meant in English.

But he doubted his parents would be proud of him for such a thing. Anything that wasn’t practical to make a living wasn’t needed. His siblings probably would though.

“They don’t speak English.”

It was blunt, maybe a little bit too much, but it was the truth. It would be pointless for him to learn to read and write in a language that wasn’t his own. Learning to speak it was already quite enough for him.

“It does not matter. Even if you cannot write to them, you will do it for yourself, just to say: ‘I know I can do it and I will do it.’”

“…”

“Just because you come from a background with no basic knowledge does not mean that you cannot educate yourself. It is your right, and of course, it is your choice. So I will teach you only if you want me to. Even though I think you should do it.”

What did he have to lose anyway if he tried to learn? Nothing. It wouldn’t make him any less capable as regards fam work skills. So he might as well give it a try to see where this would go.

He was curious to see how this worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!! 🎄🎁☃️
> 
> I hope you're all having (or had) a nice Christmas Day :) We all need some positive things at this time of year
> 
> Take care of yourselves and your loved ones 💕
> 
> xoxo


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Hopkins teaches Karl how to play chess but as they are playing, an unexpected visitor knocks on the door...

Another week passed, and that evening it was just Mr. Hopkins and Karl in the house.

He didn’t really know where the others were supposed to be. But, hey, they had their own lives and didn’t need to keep him informed of everything they did. He thought he had understood that Mrs. Hopkins had gone on her own to visit some relatives, and if so he guessed she had asked her husband to stay with him so he wouldn’t be alone. As for Paul he was most likely kept by work, and as for George…no idea.

They were staying in the living room, facing each other wordlessly.

“If you will excuse me for one minute, I am just going to fetch something in the other room.”

Karl nodded, not fully understanding the words that he said. But they spoke for themselves.

He came back rather quickly with something in his hands. From afar, it looked like some kind of tray, but it wasn’t. It was thicker. And the things that were displayed on it were definitely not edible. He put it down on the table without saying a word before he sat back swiftly into his seat. Karl examined it with inquisitive eyes as he leaned forward.

“Have you already seen one before?”

Karl looked up at Mr. Hopkins.

“No.”

“This is called a chessboard, and thanks to all of these pieces we can play chess.”

So it was another kind of game. At first glance, it seemed to be similar to playing cards.

“I inherited it from my grandfather.”

Goods inherited from family members, from one generation to another, there was nothing more precious and valuable. It’s not as if you bought the thing yourself. It took on an important symbolic meaning.

“Would you like to learn how to play?”

Karl nodded eagerly, without taking the time to give it a second thought.

“You will see, it is not that hard. You just need to get used to it first.”

Karl just waited for him to show him how it worked.

“So, first, the pieces,” he said as he pointed at the white ones, the ones on his side. “There are six different types of pieces. First, the pawns,” he made a horizontal gesture with his finger to show every one of them. “The most basic pieces, or rather the less important ones, if you prefer. The kind that you can easily sacrifice without losing too much. Then the Bishops, you have only two of them. Each one on a different square of colour if you look closely. It is more important than pawns, but still remains a minor piece on the game.”

Karl listened carefully and glanced at Mr. Hopkins every now and then to show he did.

“The Knight. It is a minor piece just like the bishop. And you have two of them as well. One is for the King, and the other one is for the Queen. To protect them.”  
The pieces were the same as the ones used for cards, except that there weren’t four different categories of suits, and no numbers were used.

“The Rook. You have got two Rooks as well. One near the King and one near the Queen. This, unlike the pawns, Bishops, and Knights, are major pieces. The Queen is the key piece. It is the most powerful one in the game. The King is not that powerful compared to the Queen, but he is the most important piece after her. If you checkmate your opponent’s King, then you win.”

He shouldn’t have any trouble learning the rules of the game. He guessed that you just couldn’t move the pieces anywhere haphazardly, as it pleases you.

“Chess is like a miniature version of war. The only difference is that there are no real victims made of chairs and bones.”

War. That word again. The word that no one liked, yet that was on everyone’s lips.

“Now, let us see how it is played. You always start using a pawn, since they are on the frontline. It is totally up to you to see which one is best to use first. Let us say for example that I start with this one.” He held one of the eight pawns between the tips of his fingers. “You can either make it move forward one square or two squares, but only if you move it for the first time. From the second time, it can only move forward one square.”

He observed his movements with the most utter attention.

“As for the other pieces, the Bishop can move diagonally as many squares as you wish. Like this, and like that. The Knight is the only piece that can jump over another piece; like this. It either moves one square left or right horizontally and then two squares up or down vertically, like this. Or it moves two squares left or right horizontally and then one square up or down vertically, like that. And whatever piece it lands on is automatically captured.”

Karl found it even more interesting than playing cards. But that didn’t mean he was going to dislike playing them from that moment.

“The Rook. It can move as many squares as it likes left or right horizontally, like this. Or it can move as many squares as it likes up or down vertically. But it must not be blocked by other pieces, just like for Bishops. Look, if we put these pieces this way…”

The way he took and moved the pieces, there was something somewhat fascinating in it.

“You can't move your Rook here, or there. Or if you put them that way, you can’t move your bishop on that square. But you can move it there. It gives you a small advantage.”

There was nothing too complicated in what he was shown. After training a few times he should manage to become as good as he could be with cards.

“And if I do this, and that after you do that, you can capture my Bishop.”

Karl looked up at him once again, and the warm feeling in his chest was well expressed by the smile that suddenly appeared on his face. Mr. Hopkins returned his smile.

“I am glad I am the one to make you discover this.”

His chest swelled with this warm feeling, and his smile widened a little bit more. They contemplated each other silently, and Karl was more comfortable than he had ever been until that moment in each other’s company. Mr. Hopkins spoke again before it could get too long.

“Back to chess. The Queen. It can move as many squares as it likes left or right horizontally, like this. Or it can move as many squares as it likes up or down vertically, like a Rook, this way. But it can also move as many squares as it likes diagonally, like a Bishop, that way.”

Yes, it definitely wasn’t too complicated for him.

“And last, the King. As I told you the King is not really powerful. It can only move or even capture, one square in any direction. Look, for example, if I do this…”

A good strategy, he could say just by watching.

“…you can easily checkmate my King if you do that.”

It wouldn’t be as fun as playing cards with George, but it would still be good.

“Let us start the first game, to put everything I have been saying and showing into practice.”

Mr. Hopkins put back all the pieces the way they were when he brought the chessboard.

“I will let you start.”

He didn’t really know how to start, and as it was something new, he took the time to foresee all the possible scenarios that could happen according to what pawn he would move first.

He just hoped Mr. Hopkins wouldn’t get impatient if he took too long, even though he didn’t look like the kind of man who would have such a reaction.

“Don’t be afraid to make a mistake. This is only a way to practice to help you, some kind of a first approach to chess if you’d like.”

How could that thought even cross his mind?

The warm and encouraging tone in his voice was proof enough that he wouldn’t.

He finally chose to move the pawn before one of his bishops, two squares.

“F4. Not so bad a move for a first time.”

The slight smirk that appeared on Karl’s face practically matched Mr. Hopkins’s tone of voice. He was quick to move one of his pawns, but only one square.

Karl thought carefully about what next move would be best, but he was faster this time. He moved another pawn, the one placed before the other bishop, two squares, like the other.

Mr. Hopkins and he briefly made eye contact. Mr. Hopkins looked somewhat surprised.

“Not bad at all.”

Karl smirked slightly at that. And Mr. Hopkins did the same. Then he moved the pawn before one of the Rooks, one square.

Okay, what move now?

Hmm…maybe if he moved this pawn like this…he wasn’t even sure.

But the look on Mr. Hopkins’s face soon had him realise that it didn’t seem to be such a good move this time. He looked thoughtful for a while.

“If you move this pawn this way, it will leave me in a much more difficult position. Then I can still do this to make things look more favorable to me. But then you can move your knight this way to tip the scales in your favor. You could even checkmate my King in eight moves if we do things this way…if we put pieces like this…”

He moved the pieces so easily and so quickly as if he had done this his whole life. There was really something mesmerising in it.

“…and checkmate."

Impressive. That was the only word that could come to Karl’s mind at that moment.

As their eyes met, Karl couldn’t miss Mr Hopkins’s smile. And he could only smile back at him.

“Chess is not that difficult a game. Most people think that it is only made for gifted people, but that is a lie. You simply need basic common sense to play well. Just like in any other strategic game.”

They continued playing for a while, and Karl was so much engrossed in learning how to play in a satisfying way that he totally lost track of time. But as they were right in the middle of a game, an unexpected knock on the door interrupted them.

They both looked up and glanced at each other. It couldn’t be either Paul, Mrs. Hopkins, or George. But then who could it be?

“Can I…?” Karl nodded towards the hall.

“Sure.”

He should have let Mr. Hopkins go and see who it was, but he guessed he just wanted to make himself useful. 

In hardly ten seconds he was at the door. To his great surprise it was a boy who was standing on the threshold. The boy looked as surprised as he was to see him. Before they could start some kind of conversation he examined his face thoroughly. Blue eyes like his own, light brown hair that looked a bit disheveled, but not as much as his own. With his facial features, he must have been around ten or eleven, or maybe less. It was always difficult to guess people’s ages.

The boy seemed to be a bit too surprised to utter anything at all. So he took the initiative to speak instead.

“Hi.”

It’s not as if he were scary, or could he be…?

“Hi.”

The boy’s voice was faint, almost like a whisper.

He waited for the boy to say something else, because he had obviously come there for a good reason. He just hoped he wouldn’t scare him away.

“Is…is George here?” He ended up asking, still with the same tone of voice. He sounded as though he were sad.

So he knew George…

“No.”

He could try to add something else not to sound too rude. “He’s out. I do not know when he will be back…”

The boy remained silent, he didn’t even nod. He stared right into Karl’s eyes, not looking as surprised as earlier.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

His voice sounded normal now.

“No. My home is far from here.”

There was a bit of silence as the boy never looked away.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from Denmark.”

Another moment of silence.

“I like your accent.”

There was a hint of happiness in his voice.

“Thanks.”

The same thing happened again, but it lasted longer this time.

“Could you…Could you give this to George?”

Again there was the same frailty in his voice. He was holding an envelope in his hand, and there was most likely a letter in it. But then why did he come all the way there just to give it to him? He could have just sent it and he would have received it in the Hopkins’s mailbox.

“Of course,” he gave the boy a small smile.

The boy returned it, but it seemed rather forced more than anything else. He really did look upset.

“Thanks.”

It was very unlikely that he was related to George in some way. They didn’t look alike at all. And he was too young to be a friend of his. But then he didn’t look like his older brother at all.

“I should go now,” the boy said. “Mum doesn’t like it when I stay out too late.”

He thought he got it now. Maybe he had just hoped to see him.

But why had he come only that day? He could have come much earlier.

He just didn’t want to bombard the boy with questions.

“See you,” the boy just said.

“See you.”

And then he turned away to leave without wasting another minute.

He watched him walk away, and once he was out of sight he closed the door and went back into the living room. Oh, he didn’t even think about asking for his name.

Mr. Hopkins was focused on the chessboard.

“Who was it?” He asked without looking up.

“A boy, asking for George.”

Mr. Hopkins did look up at him this time. But he didn’t say a thing. He wouldn’t try to ask him questions either. If there was something he should know, he would be told about it.

He sat back in the armchair, the letter still in hand. He put it on the side and looked at Mr. Hopkins.

“Shall we play a few more games? Or perhaps you would rather retire to your bedroom.”

“Play.”

Short but clear.

Mr. Hopkins smiled at him, probably finding it kind of funny.

“Let us keep playing then. But perhaps you would like to eat something first. Are you hungry?”

Karl shook his head no. He could skip one meal once in a while. He wouldn’t die of it.

“Neither am I.”

He put all the pieces back into place so they could start playing again.

Once it was starting to get dark, they finally stopped.

“Can I…” Karl trailed off as he pointed at the chessboard.

“Of course. You may use it as much as you like.”

He wanted to take him into Paul’s bedroom to train on his own. It sure was much better to play with someone else, but playing against oneself had its own advantage too.

“Thank you.”

He took the chessboard and lifted it slowly, careful not to make the pieces fall.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

Once he was in the room, he let the door open and placed the chessboard on the bed delicately. He sat near the pillows and started playing against himself. He wasn’t really used to doing it, but he found it kind of funny because most people would probably find it weird.

He played one game, then two, three, four.

When he glanced at the window, it was completely dark. He wasn’t tired at all so he wouldn’t mind playing all night long on his own.

He was deep in thought about the next move he should do for his black pieces. He analysed all the possible situations with the utmost care.

He didn’t know whether it was because he took too long to do something, or because he was actually tired but hadn’t realized it, but he saw his one knight left move on its own.  
No, wait, pieces couldn’t move on their own. He looked up swiftly, only to see the roommate he had totally forgotten about. He had been so quiet that he didn’t even hear him enter the room.

Karl stared at him with an impassive look on his face, silently challenging him. George said nothing and stared back at him with the same kind of look on his face.

“You may be excellent at playing cards, but when you see how good I am at playing chess, you won’t laugh anymore.”

His tone was a bit haughty in a way, but if he thought it would affect Karl in any way, well, he was wrong.

He guessed he couldn’t finish the game between him and himself. So he lined up the pieces in their respective spots, first the black ones.

Oh, wait, before he forgot…

He stopped what he was doing and stood up swiftly to go downstairs at the speed of light.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” He heard George call after him.

He took the letter where he had left it and went back to the bedroom just as quickly. He approached George and handed him the letter.

George stared at him with a look that said: 'What the fuck is this?’

“It’s not from me,” Karl clarified to avoid any misunderstanding.

“From who is it then?”

“A small boy. With blue eyes.”

Despite his stoic face, he could notice a hint of slight shock in his eyes. He waited for him to take it through the silence, but he didn’t seem willing to do so. The letter ended up on the bed, on the side opposite Karl. George just watched him wordlessly.

“So…shall we play?” Karl asked him.

It was that same look again. The slight shock in his eyes was completely gone.

“You’re gonna regret it; you know that?”

The smirk that appeared on his face was automatic. 

“Smile while you can. I swear it won’t last long.”

This was going to be a very long night but in a good way this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :) 
> 
> So I am the girl who writes about chess but who absolutely doesn't know how to play it 😂 What do you think of that?  
> I hope my descriptions don't suck too much 😅 It just makes me think about this new TV series, _The Queen's Gambit_. I haven't had the occasion to watch it yet, I don't if anyone here has, but I heard it was really good, so I guess I should give it a try :)
> 
> Anyway, have a good day, night, or evening! 😊


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another unexpected visitor comes to see the Hopkins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> I hope you're all doing well :) 
> 
> I ate something yesterday that made me sick, and it was awful... But I'm feeling much better now, so that's alright!
> 
> As for the story itself, from that chapter onwards, this is going to be much more serious stuff if you see what I mean. Well, this is a story about war, so of course, life isn't gonna be a long, quiet river where everyone is happy and everything is fine... 
> 
> So you'd better buckle up because the ride will be rough (I don't know if it's the right words to use, but let's say it is).   
> When I started publishing I preferred not to rate the story because I thought it'd be too soon, but I think it should be rated at least as mature (and maybe as explicit, I don't really know...) 
> 
> Anyway, I still hope you'll enjoy it.
> 
> See you tomorrow for another update! 
> 
> Take care 💕

Robert was peacefully sitting in his armchair with his newspaper in both hands when there was a knock on the door.

“I will get it.”

He folded the paper carefully and put it down on the table before making his way towards the door.

He liked reading it in the morning after he had just bought it and then rereading it after work. It was a habit he had developed as a young adult.

Once he opened the door he was greeted by a young man whom he had never seen before. He had grey eyes and light brown hair, smooth and well-defined facial features that were the symbol of youth. Something he had lost many, many years earlier.

“Good evening. I’m sorry to disturb you…”

“It’s fine. You are not disturbing us at all.”

The young man stared at him as if he were examining him thoroughly.

“Are you…Mr. Hopkins...?” He asked a bit hesitantly.

“Yes, I am. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

He seemed to be quite embarrassed. Only then did he pay close attention to his clothes. He was wearing the British army uniform. And he could say that he was only a private with just a simple look at it. It was not exactly the same one as so many men had worn during WW1. But Robert started breathing unevenly at the mere sight of it. This could not mean anything good if he was there…

“I’m afraid you can’t…” he sighed before proceeding. “Let me get straight to the point. Nathan Edwards was killed during the evacuation of Dunkirk. We couldn’t do anything to save him….”

An all too familiar feeling started invading both Robert’s stomach and chest. A feeling that never really left him.

“I’d rather you be the one who tells his friend, George, about it. I don’t think he needs to know all the details…”

He was even more horrified as he was now thinking specifically about George. The death of a young man alone was already terrible enough like that.

“No, I don't think so either.”

Both men remained speechless for a little while. There was nothing more to be said anyway.

The young man eventually cleared his throat, having Robert look back at him.

“I should go now. My family’s waiting for me.”

Robert nodded at that.

“I hope they know how lucky they are to have you back.”

The young man remained mum for a few more moments, looking unsure as to what he should answer to this.

“I think they do.”

A tiny part of Robert was at least happy and relieved that he was part of the many young men that had managed to make it back home.

He gave him a very tiny, sad smile.

“What is your name?”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry…you’ve just had me realise that I forgot to introduce myself…that’s the first thing I should’ve done.”

“That's alright,” he assured him. “You were too overwhelmed by emotion and too focused on that terrible piece of news to think about good manners. That’s totally understandable.”

The young man nodded.

“My name’s James. James Edgar Sherwood.”

Robert nodded as an acknowledgement.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, James.”

“You too, Sir. If you’ll excuse me now,” he nodded at him as a farewell. “Have a good evening, even if…it seems like an inappropriate thing to say in such circumstances…”

Robert smiled at him once again, the same kind of smile as earlier.

“It’s still a better thing to say than ‘Sorry’.”

His silence seemed to mean that he agreed.

“I cannot deny that you’re right.”

Robert smiled again, but it wasn’t so sad a smile that time. He found the lad somewhat endearing.

“Have a good evening too. And a good family reunion.”

James looked a bit surprised by his response. He most likely had expected him to say something completely different.

“Thank you.”

The smile he offered him was warm, sincere. He could tell from the look in his eyes that he could not wait to see them again. How natural.

Robert returned his smile before James turned away and left.

He let his back fall against the door as the temporary happiness he had been feeling for the boy quickly left his mind. He inhaled sharply before he sighed. He couldn’t delay the moment when he had to tell George.

There was no appropriate time for such a thing. There was no good or soft way of breaking the news of someone’s death. It was crude, just like the moment of the death itself. Just like the bloody reality of war…

The person doesn’t want to die, and neither do the relatives or close friends want to hear about it. Yet, it just cannot remain untold. They need to hear it, as much as they do not wish to.

He removed his back from the door and took a few steps in the direction of the staircase. But as much as he knew he had to go up, his legs would not move. He remained frozen in his spot, staring at the wall blankly. His chest and stomach were aching in acute pain.

As much as he knew he had to accept reality just as he had learnt to in the past, he could not. He did not want George to be hurt. His heart and reason were at war. And for now, his heart was getting the upper hand. Would his reason be stronger in the end? He had to wait to discover it.

He gripped the wooden banister and squeezed it as hard as he could, as if he wanted to prevent himself from falling, from falling into some dark, bottomless abyss.

He tried to regulate his breathing; but even though he should be used to this kind of thing by that time, it was quite hard for him to do so. He remained motionless for about five minutes, maybe more. He wasn’t exactly sure.

“Robert,” he heard his wife call from the long hall. “What is happening? Who was it at the door?” She questioned as she was getting nearer and nearer.

He glanced at her once she was next to him.

“Robert…are you alright?” She was definitely worried.

Robert sighed again before he turned his head to look at her.

“George’s best friend was killed at war, while they were evacuating the Dunkirk zone.”

Of course, as he had foreseen, she looked totally both horrified and upset. She brought her hands to her face as her mouth fell agape.

The silence was like a dagger over their heads. If they broke it, they would be hurt. At last, he resigned himself to go upstairs. He knocked on the door and waited to be allowed to enter the room.

He found Carl and George playing chess. He was quite delighted to see that Carl enjoyed the game, but it only lasted for a brief moment. He could not be distracted by something positive.

“Boys, could you come down, please? There is something we need to talk about.”

The two young men stared at him with curious eyes, as expected.

“We haven’t done anything wrong.”

Oh well, he had not exactly expected this kind of reaction on George’s part. He should not have worded it this way… Well, at the same time he hadn’t expected himself to tell this kind of thing…

“No, no,” he let out a small awkward laugh, “I know you haven’t.”

And now he didn’t know how to word his next sentence.

“This is not about you two. But this is still very important. Everyone is concerned.”

What a smart way of distorting the truth…

Both boys exchanged a look.

“May we at least finish our game? Or is it so important that it can't wait?”

Robert was trying his very best to keep a neutral composure because he knew if he showed them how he was really feeling that George would figure it out.

“Yes, of course. Take your time. It can wait for a few more minutes.”

This was just a bit of delay, not that much.

“Okay.”

He swiftly turned around and exited the room to go back downstairs. His son was with his wife and as he had just taken the last step of the stairs, they were staring at him with sorrowful eyes.

“I could not tell him.”

There was this unmistakable look of compassion in Margaret’s eyes, the one that said: “I know how hard it is, and that’s alright.”

Paul licked his lips as he glanced down.

He was feeling like he was acting a bit out of cowardice. He passed his wife and son to end up right in the middle of the hall.

“Dad…”

Deep down he had always had a feeling that this was bound to happen. He should have helped George brace up for this. But he preferred not to talk about it at all with him, as if naively he had thought that there was a little bit of hope that his friend would have come back home safe.

But George was hardly twenty. He was not supposed to know the cruel reality and consequences of war. Things had never been meant to turn out this way.

His wife put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He knew it was hers without even looking at her.

He could already picture how George was going to break up, the pain on his face, a pain that hurts so much that it makes you feel as though you have just been stabbed.

He squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt that the image would fade away. But it only made it worse actually. He turned away so he could have a look at both his wife and son. She embraced him tightly, giving all the love she had got in her. But he knew this could never be enough to make him feel better. 

The light cracking of the steps caught his attention. He turned his head, alert as his wife let go of him. 

Soon enough, both Carl and George were down. He guessed very easily that the looks on their faces gave away a bit of the sad reality.

“What’s going on?” George asked, looking obviously confused as to why they had been asked to come down.

He was feeling like his heart was being stabbed mercilessly. He licked his lips nervously, his mouth had gone completely dry by that time. Margaret took his hand in hers and squeezed it, silently saying: “You can do it.”

“Why are you all looking like this?”

He could feel that George was started to get a bit anxious. The mere thought of George breaking down left him speechless. Yet his mind was screaming at him: “You’re familiar with this particular stuff!”

But George just was not anybody. He wasn’t a comrade, a friend-

“Why won’t you say anything? I thought we needed to talk.”

The frustration was growing as the sound of his voice was getting louder.

He could not delay this any longer; waiting without being told was some kind of torture that could be even worse than the news itself in some cases.

“I’m sorry, George. Nathan will never make it home.”

George was mum as if his brain were simply having a hard time to take in the sudden piece of news. But there was nothing more normal and understandable than this kind of reaction.

He did not even try to say anything to comfort him. Soothing words were only cold comfort.

The room was dead silent for minutes, at least five minutes. No one seemed to be comfortable either to try to say anything.

“You must be kidding.”

Bang. A brutal pang in his chest. The tone in his voice was enough to make this. This was the first step to breaking down. And now he had to put the boot in to make him accept reality as it was.

“No,” he trailed off, trying not to show his own vulnerable side. “He’s dead. He died before he could get on the boat to go back home. You…you will never see him again.”

It was best if he did not because seeing someone that close to you dying or dead was absolutely the worst thing that could ever exist.

This another long moment of silence became unbearable. Sometimes this kind of silence was more awful than seeing someone breaking down. He could clearly see that this would take much more than what he had said to accept it. Yet, he did not insist for the time being.

Eventually, George started shaking his head almost frenetically, in small but rapid gestures.

“No…no…no…no….”

He could feel this was starting to get really bad…but there was not really anything he could do to prevent this…

“George…"

“You’re lying! He can’t have died! D'ya hear me?! He can’t!!!” He snapped. This was the second step, still a part of denial.

Of course, he could never be angry with him for it. Yet, he was angry with himself for not being able to do anything to help.

“Please, calm down.”

What a weak way of trying to make the situation better…

The look George had in his eyes could have made anyone flinch in fear, and Robert was more worried for him than he had ever been before.

“You’re asking me to calm down…” His tone was dangerously low and threatening. “Then you should’ve never talked to me about such things in the first place!”

It hurt to see him like this. It really did. The strong pain in his chest and stomach would not stop.

“Listen…I know it’s the first time you’ve been experiencing the loss-”

“Don’t. Don’t. Just don’t say anything else. I haven’t lost him. I’m telling you he’s not dead.”

“George…” Paul began but hadn't got time to say anything else.

“Paul, please stay out of it, will you? Your father can handle this.” Margaret stopped him, only with good intentions in mind.

“You knew that it was very likely to happen. And I’m sure you thought about it once you didn’t hear from him anymore.”

Realisation was slowly starting to make its way to his brain. He could see it in his eyes, the way they became shifty said it all. He could also see it in the way his body stiffened.

“But hearing the word from someone else’s mouth makes it real.”

It seemed that he was starting to have trouble breathing. He was close to breaking down now. The feeling in Robert’s chest and stomach was becoming worse and worse; it was even attacking his lungs now. The sadistic silence, there it was again. Silence to remember the dead, yet that just ended up killing them for good, not just physically.

George’s eyes were starting to get glossy. He bit and chewed on his lips as if he would scream if he did not.

“He…”

Another pang of pain, as if he were being stabbed once again.

George did not need much more before completely falling apart. It was obvious.

“He promised…he promised me he’d come back…”

He was clearly trying as hard as possible to choke back his tears.

Robert did not need to look at his reflection in a mirror to guess he looked totally desperate, almost on the verge of tears himself.

George ran upstairs before he could shed a single tear.

“George…wait!”

Margaret was about to go after him, but he held her back.

“I think it’s better if we leave him alone. Not everyone deals with grief and mourning the same way. Some people prefer to have someone by their side to comfort them while others would rather be alone to pour out their feelings far from prying eyes.”

Neither did his wife or his son make any comment about it.

And that was it. The war had struck again. Making another victim amongst so many others. And it had only started a few months earlier…

There are no winners in a war, only victims. That’s what he had learnt the hard way.

“Are you staying with us for dinner?”

“Yes. That’s what I’d planned.”

Robert was too caught in his feeling of emptiness to pay any attention to his surroundings anymore. He was not quite sure for how long he remained standing there, staring into space. Perhaps five minutes or more again. But he knew he had to get a grip on himself eventually. Acting like a ghost did not solve anything.

He noticed both Margaret and Paul were gone, leaving him with only Carl.

Only then did he realise what he had done, that he had been here all along…

“I’m sorry you had to see that…”

But his words were only met with silence.

He opened his mouth again to talk, and try to explain to him what had just happened, but he inferred words were useless. As Paul had already said it himself, he was not stupid.

“Let us go to the living room, shall we?”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl goes to Paul's place so George can mourn without being disturbed.

After dinner, Karl went upstairs but he stopped right before the door and remained motionless.

What happened earlier was…

He couldn’t even find the words to describe it. He had never been confronted with such situations. He clearly understood something was wrong. But he tried to pretend he was unaffected by it. He didn’t utter a single word before and after dinner, or even during it. Even when either Mrs. Hopkins or Paul talked to him, he only used his head only to nod or shake it when necessary. They probably felt sorry that he had to witness such a scene. He honestly didn’t understand why he had to go downstairs with George. He could -should- have stayed into the bedroom all alone.

But then George would have probably kicked him out of it straight away. He still had to sleep in it though. Where would he sleep otherwise?

He opened the door cautiously. And the sight that greeted him wasn’t nice to see. It was even shocking. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach for a moment.

George was bawling his eyes out. He didn’t move, as if his feet were glued to the floor. And there it was again, the same feeling in his stomach. Brief but painful. He guessed he should just close the door and go back downstairs, but he still couldn’t move. It seemed that he was too dumbfounded to act. It seemed like an endless stream of tears, but he would have to stop sooner or later, right?

He was crying so hard that he seemed to have trouble breathing, but it’s not as if it were possible to die from too much crying… He looked away, his face slowly crumpling. Karl wasn’t used to crying or witnessing someone else crying. He had not cried really much in his life. The only time he could remember crying was when he had to leave home. But only because he witnessed his father cry. Even a bad fall hadn’t made him cry. Just scream in pain.

He looked at George again. He could hear the loud sobs, so it was no use to look away. Again, the same feeling in his stomach.

 _Stop it. Stop it_ , was all he could think of.

The more the seconds passed the more it was becoming unbearable. Honestly, who would like to see someone cry?

He bit his lower lip as he glanced down. He saw the chessboard turned over and all the pieces scattered on the floor messily. What happened wasn’t the chessboard’s fault. His loud sobs quickly turned into screams. The feeling in his stomach became more intense. He let out a shaky breath as he kept staring down.

_Stop. Please, stop._

The cries and the screams wouldn’t fade out. And the feeling in Karl’s stomach wouldn’t either. He looked up only to see George bang the pillow with the back of his fist; an act of desperation, he guessed. He didn’t think he would be able to stand this every night…it was already too much then.

He looked down again but at his feet this time. He was suddenly overwhelmed with another kind of feeling, but this one was much more familiar. He rolled up the sleeve on his left arm. Goosebumps. But he wasn’t cold. He was used to enduring the cold during harsh winters. It wasn’t even winter and the house wasn’t cold…

How weird.

He also came to notice that his breathing wasn’t really normal anymore. It was becoming loud, a bit too loud for his liking.

 _Stop, just stop!_ He kept thinking.

The crying and screaming eventually died down after a little while, to his great relief. He let out a sigh before he looked at George once again. His head was buried in the pillow as he was lying down on the bed. So of course it helped as they were somewhat stifled. Anyway, it wasn’t that long before he lifted it up, and sat up. He wiped his tears away with his forearm and then with both his hands. It took him a bit of time so he could do it properly. Then he started sniffing, once at first, then several times in a row, and it just seemed to grow louder each time. He was now burying his face in his hands, taking deep breaths.

Karl didn’t look away, and the feeling in his stomach had disappeared by that time. But the goosebumps were still there.

George rubbed it before he removed them, and he turned his head slowly only to meet Karl’s gaze. And as expected, he wasn’t really happy to see him…

“What the…” he trailed off. “Piss off!”

Of course, Karl didn’t understand what “piss off” meant, even though he didn’t need to know to guess the meaning of it. But he still didn’t move. The same feeling was coming back.

“I said piss off!!!” He started shouting.

The next thing he did, he grabbed one of his books that was under the bed. (Yes, he decided to put away all of his books under the bed since there was no bookshelf). That way he could grab it quicker, otherwise, he would have had to stand up from the bed to get it. He threw it at him aggressively and Karl closed the door just in time to avoid being hit in the face with it. He heard the loud thump as the book collided against the wood. He leaned his back against it as he thought about what he had just witnessed. Just to think about it made the same feeling reappear again. He replayed it again and again in his head. He didn’t think he could ever forget that.

He could hear loud sobs through the door. The feeling intensified again. And he looked down again. Obviously, there was nothing he could do about it…

Clearly, he didn’t know where he was going to sleep that night…

But he would have to stop crying sooner or later anyway. He couldn’t keep doing this for the rest of his life.

He saw Paul coming his way as soon as he looked up. He didn’t even look concerned.

“Don’t worry about this for tonight. You can come and stay at my place as long as will be necessary. You just have to know that it’s not that big compared to here…

Even though he didn’t understand each word perfectly as a real English folk would, he didn’t need to once again. The look on his face and the tone he used was quite enough. Plus, the situation itself spoke for itself.

“Thank you.”

“No need to be so polite with me. I wouldn’t have hit you had you not thanked me.”

He winked at Karl as he finished speaking.

Okay. He got it. This was some kind of teasing.

A large smile brightened his face.

“That’s much better.”

Karl only let out a breath that could have been a small laugh. Paul really knew how to make people feel better.

“Well, let’s go now, shall we? We’re not gonna stay standing here all night long, are we?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not that far from here anyway.”

*  
It took them around thirty minutes to get to Paul’s flat. It was the very first time he had seen it. It wasn’t that bad. It was sober, but it wasn’t sleazy or anything like that. And yes, it was small, much smaller than Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins’s house, but he really didn’t mind. As long as he had a place to sleep, it didn’t matter whether it was huge or small. And being with Paul made it even better.

“Come, have a seat. Make yourself at home.”

There was no table to eat or armchairs to sit on. Only a table put against one of the walls with a chair before it that rather looked like a kind of desk. He probably used it to work. There was also a bed in one corner of the room, against the wall too, big enough for one person only, and sober like the room itself. He guessed he could sit on it, so he made his way towards it.

“Don’t worry. It’s only temporary. Besides, it’s only so you can sleep, but during the day you’ll be able to go back home to be with Mum.”

He saw Paul open some kind of huge box, or whatever it was. He didn’t really know what it was…

“And you’ll still be able to have your meals there too. I don’t even have any drink to give to you…”

He was quick to close it. And quick to open his cupboard to grab something in it. Two glasses that he filled with tap water. Also quick to come and sit on the bed -wait- no, not on the bed, but on the floorboard, his back against the bed.

“I prefer it this way, but if you’d rather sit on the bed, you’re free to do it,” he told Karl as he handed him one of the glasses.

Karl just observed him silently. It wasn’t a problem for him to sit on the floor. So he took the glass before he shifted his position.

“Don’t feel forced to do like me.”

“No. It’s fine for me.”

Paul nodded at him with a smile.

“Let’s toast with water since there’s no booze in here,” he lifted his glass up. “To the disastrous evacuation of Dunkirk and the bravery of our men that died there.”

He understood that he talked about water. Honestly, at first, he was surprised that he should give them both a glass of water now that dinner time had passed. But now understood that he had no ‘beer’. They could have gone to see Emma and have a drink there. But maybe he just didn’t feel like it that night. As for the rest, he only understood our men.

Wait.

He’d already heard Paul say the word died before. That evening, during dinner. About George’s best friend.

“What is Dun…ke-kek…”

“Dunkirk. It’s a city in the North of France, near the Belgian border. I’ll show it to you on a map. They say ‘Dunkerque’ in French. It’s close to the sea. You just have to cross it to come to England. “

Karl nodded in understanding.

“That’s where George’s best friend was fighting.”

Karl nodded again. He remained silent as he looked down at his lap, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Cheers,” Paul said after a few moments, probably noticing Karl’s distress.

Karl gave him a small smile as he looked up at him. And they made their glasses clink.

“We’ve lost a battle, but not the war. Not yet.”

Once again, Karl nodded. He didn’t know anything better he could do at that moment. He couldn’t help thinking again about George who broke down and cried in their room. The same feeling came back. He looked down again.

“Don’t worry about him either. He’ll get over it sooner or later. He’ll have to.”

Karl looked up at him another time.

“Get…”

“Get over it. It means…you know, accept the death of that person and move on, even if that’s painful. He just needs time.”

This time he didn’t nod. Simply because he wasn’t sure he understood well what Paul had just said…

“I wish I knew how to say it in Danish. It would be much simpler.”

Yes, it wasn’t always easy to explain. But the more time would pass, the easier it would become. That’s what he kept telling himself.

“That’s just how life is. Unfair. You can’t have the good without having the bad. We’re not in Wonderland.”

“Won...de...land..”

“Yes, Wonderland. You know, like _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_. By Lewis Carroll. With the white rabbit,” he made gestures with his hands as he said the last word.

And Karl could only grin at this. He saw Paul grin too as he stopped.

They both went silent afterwards, and within seconds Karl swore he could hear in his head George’s sobbing and shouting as if he were still there. And some sort of shiver ran through his whole body.

He tried to think about something else, anything really. But the noise wouldn’t stop. He let out a heavy breath before biting his lower lip.

“You know, I don’t plan on living here for the rest of my life,” Paul said at some point, and he was thankful he spoke. “When I get married and have kids of my own, I’ll get something much bigger; a really nice house with a really nice garden. A bit like my parents’ house.”

He could understand basically what he meant.

“There’ll even be a room just for you.”

Once again, Karl could only smile at his words.

They both went silent once more, but Paul was quick to speak again.

“You’re lucky you’re hardly eighteen. You don’t have to worry about that just yet. I really wish I could be back to my teenage years sometimes.”

There was a hint of nostalgia in his voice as he said that.

“Live while you can, make the most of your young age.”

He sounded much more serious now.

“Times flies by so fast. Before you know it, you’ll have to get married and procreate.”

Karl just observed him in silence.

“Procreate, you know,” he made some gesture with his index fingers, making them touch each other’s tips. “Or if you prefer…” Now he was making a circle with his thumb and index finger with one hand and moved his other index finger through it in swift motions.

But this wasn’t really helping Karl…

He suddenly stopped and stared straight into his eyes before he laughed.

“You’re still a virgin, I bet.”

He was…what…?

He let out another laugh.

“That’s okay, you know. Just forget about it for now.”

His curiosity was getting the best of him.

“You’re still too innocent to think about this. I wouldn’t like to be the one to deprave you.”

And this time what was he? He had no idea.

Why couldn’t he learn more quickly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that chapter :)
> 
> Have a good day/night/evening!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hopkins is really worried about George, so she asks Karl and Paul to go and check on him...

“I’m really worried about him, you know. Already when Nathan was at war, he skipped meals, but now that he died, I’m afraid he is going to let himself starve and die…”

Three days later, apparently, things hadn’t got any better…

“Besides, he hasn’t been drinking either, and he cannot stay any longer without drinking…Paul! You have to do something! Even your father couldn’t do anything…”

Mrs. Hopkins looked completely panicked and terrified. It was really painful to see. The same feeling was back in his stomach.

“If Dad couldn’t do anything, I don’t think I can help…”

“But you are like a big brother to him, you two are really close. I am sure you are the only one who can do this.”

Paul looked dubious.

“Even if we are this close, I don’t think there’s anything I can do…”

“Don’t start talking like your father! Just take this and do what it will take to get him out of his room!”

Paul was left speechless by her words and the tone she used. He took what she gave to him without protesting or anything. A tray with small homemade sandwiches and a carafe full of water.

“Please, be quick!”

She sounded angry, but the way she begged him showed she was worried to death more than anything else. She started pushing him away, and Karl just watched as Paul made his way towards the stairs. But as he was about to get out of the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks and turned around only to look at Karl.

“Are you coming?”

Of course, Karl was surprised he should be asking this.

Why should he come with him? This was none of his business. He wasn’t a part of the Hopkins’s family, and he had hardly been staying with them for more than a month…

 _Du behøver ikke min hjælp_ , Karl could only think. _You don’t need my help_.

But the words in English wouldn’t come to him.

Besides he wasn’t particularly close with George…

He could suddenly feel a hand touch his back.

“Please, go with him.”

The way she said it, so sad and broken…and so pleading at the same time…this made a shiver run through his body. He didn’t know what was worse between this and the awful feeling in his stomach…

He couldn’t not go with Paul now.

He quickly went by his side and even faster they found themselves before George’s door.

“Can you take these, please?” He handed Karl the tray and carafe.

Karl nodded as he took them.

“Thanks.”

Paul tried to open it, but it was blocked, no, locked. So instead he knocked on the door.

“George! George! please, open the door!”

He waited for a bit. But nothing happened.

He banged much more loudly with the back of his fist.

“George!!! Come on, you can’t stay locked in here crying forever!!!” He banged again. “George!!!”

Karl pressed his ear against the hardwood. He couldn’t hear any crying, let alone shouting or screaming. For some reason, he found it weird.

He looked back at Paul whose eyes were solely focused on the door. He brought his fist near his lips, but it only lasted a few seconds. He banged again, so loud and aggressively that it seemed he could have hurt his hand had he done it for too long.

“George!!! For fuck’s sake!!!”

“Paul! Please don’t swear!” His mother could be heard shouting from downstairs.

He let out some kind of growl.

“GEORGE!!!”

All this noise was most likely the cause of this disturbing silence.

“GEORGE!!!”

It was clear that he wasn’t ready to open the door anytime soon…

Paul let out a frustrated sigh.

“George…I know it’s hard. But we only want to help you. So don’t shut us out…”

Karl would have rather not witnessed this…

“We really care for you. We wished we could have shielded you from the pain, but we couldn’t lie to you and pretend everything was okay…”

Still nothing.

“George…Please…let us in.” He begged and Karl chewed on his lower lip. He had never seen him so…desperate.  
It seemed that he had absolutely no idea what else he could do so George would open the door, and Karl chewed on his lip harder. He really wished he could do something to help, anything.

“George…”

His voice was hardly above a whisper.

Karl’s chest ached. It was even worse than the feeling in his stomach.

Paul just stared at the door helplessly, probably trying to come up with something that could work, anything. And Karl just kept observing him silently.

A few minutes passed, and it seemed that he couldn’t find anything. He just looked a bit more desperate with each second that passed. He licked his lips as he looked away from the door.

Karl was overwhelmed by this feeling that wouldn’t leave him alone. He was feeling totally useless, and he hated that.

They waited again and again, until Paul’s face became pale, making Karl alarmed. He looked terrified now, similar to his mother.

“Holy shit…” he said in a low voice. “If he hasn’t eaten anything or drunk water for three days…”

Karl suddenly had a very bad feeling. His stomach hurt, and this time it wasn’t brief. There were successive waves of pain overwhelming him and he really couldn’t do anything about it.

“Damn it,” Paul whispered. And he finally looked at Karl. “We need to have that door open, and quick.”

Karl remained still and silent. How could they possibly open the door if it was locked from inside?

Before he could even react, Paul was trying to knock the door down.

Karl suddenly flinched.

“Paul…” the words left his mouth without warning, and he himself was surprised but the sound of his own voice.

If he kept going on like this, he feared he might have hurt himself.

But it seemed that Paul didn’t even hear him. He kept trying to knock it down, again, again, again, and again.

“Stop!”

The door wouldn’t yield. They needed something heavy that would be able to break it.

Paul stood still as he looked at him.

“Don’t worry about me. I can stand this.”

But Karl wasn’t convinced. He put both the tray and carafe down. He could find an idea, he wasn’t stupid. Not for this kind of thing.

He had to.

 _Think, think…_ he told himself.

Without warning, he ran downstairs and made his way towards the kitchen.

“Karl! Where ‘re you going?” He could hear Paul shout as he finished hurtling down the stairs.

Once he was there, he opened one of the drawers and grabbed the first knife he saw before rushing back upstairs.

“Let me do it,” was all he said before he leaned against the door.

He placed the knife between the door and the doorjamb, one hand on the knob. He slid it down swiftly.

The bolt must be here…

He worked it until it would unlock.

“Hurtigt, hurtigt…” he said in a low voice. _Fast_.

He tried several times in a row before the door finally opened. He let out a sigh of relief.

Paul hurried into the room as soon as it was opened, not even leaving Karl the time to step aside, but the young Danish boy simply brushed it off and followed after him.

“George!”

Karl’s eyes went wide open, and he felt a shiver run through his body.

“George!”

Said male was lying unconscious on the floor, near the bed.

Paul tried to shake him awake, but it only seemed to be a vain attempt. When he saw he wouldn’t wake up, he turned around to meet Karl’s gaze.

“Bring the water, please!”

Karl didn’t even take the time to think, he went to fetch the carafe in a flash, and put the knife down as he did. Now was definitely not the right time to let himself be overwhelmed by his own feelings. He crouched down next to Paul and handed him the water.

“Thanks,” he said hurriedly. “Just help me sit him up.”

Yes, trying to have him swallow water while he was lying down would definitely be a very bad idea…

Karl took him by the ribs carefully and tried to make him sit up. Paul helped him, but with one arm only. He held him in place as Paul tried to open his mouth with his fingers, and of course it wasn’t easy…

“Come on, you have to drink a little…what a moron; but what a moron…!”

Once again, Karl just observed him in silence before he glanced at George. He swore he could make out the faint traces of dried tears on his face.

“I know losing someone that close to you is a terrible ordeal, but it’s not a reason to forget to hydrate yourself, even if you don’t eat, that’s acceptable. But not drinking is not!”

He tried to make some water go through his mouth, but there was actually more water on the bottom of his face and his clothes than in his throat.

“Damn, damn it…”

He put the carafe down hastily and checked his pulse on his neck before he brought his face close to his own.

“He’s breathing, but his pulse is pretty low…”

What were they supposed to do now?

Karl just stared at Paul, waiting for him to make a decision, the best decision.

It was silent for a little while.

“We have to take him to the hospital…we can’t risk having him die simply because he’s too busy mourning to think about his own health…they’ll take much better care of him than what we can do.”

Karl just blinked because he realised he hadn’t for one minute or so.

“We just need to carry him to the car. It should be okay because he’s not that heavy as you must have already noticed.”

Karl recognised the word "car". Another one Mrs. Hopkins had taught him of course. But he had never got into one. Even when he had been in Copenhagen. Neither did his brother or sister own one.

“Here’s what we're gonna do: I’m gonna hold him by the ribs and you’re gonna hold him by the legs, okay?”

Karl nodded as he immediately understood. He let go of George’s upper body and placed himself in the right position.

“One, two, three,” they lifted him up simultaneously and started heading out of the room carefully.

As soon as they were downstairs, Mrs. Hopkins was there, still looking panicked, all the more saw when her eyes fell upon George.

“Dear Lord…”

“Mum, please, calm down. He’s just unconscious. He’s not dead. But we’re still taking him to the hospital out of precaution.”

“I’m coming with you,” she said hurriedly.

“No, Mum, don’t. Can you please just open the door and then go and open the car’s door? It’ll be already quite enough.”

She was about to say something, but Paul cut her off.

“Please, Mum. We can’t afford to waste even one second!”

She looked dubious, but it took her only a few seconds to open the door.

“Let me get the key first, I’m coming.”

Paul led the way outside, which wasn’t that easy since he wasn’t turned in the right way to walk properly. They soon arrived near the car, which he was actually seeing for the very first time. It was a really nice car. Mrs. Hopkins soon joined them and unlocked the car doors.

“Let’s put him in the back seat, just, here, go first, put his legs down, and then go to the other side of the car.”

Karl did as carefully as possible before he went to the other side. He grabbed his legs and pulled him, still as carefully as possible, because he was a human being and not just some inanimate object; and even if he was unconscious it didn’t mean he could be careless.

“Yes, perfect, like this.”

But there was just a slight problem…

“Oh, I forgot that he’s a bit too tall compared to the car’s seats…”

Now that Karl was thinking about it, he was practically as tall as he was.

“Just bend his legs. We’re gonna lie him down on his side,” he made the appropriate gestures as he spoke.

Karl nodded and did as told.

“When I think he’s the one supposed to become a future doctor…I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know doctors are people like you and me; they are human beings, but still…it looks a little bit weird…”

Right after he finished speaking, they turned him so he would be in the right position.

“Perfect.”

Paul closed the car’s door swiftly, and Karl did the same. Then he went to stand by his side.

“Let me get your father.”

“Mum, no, please. You need to stay here,” Paul insisted.

“What are you saying?”

“Mum,” he said before he grabbed her wrists, “It’s okay, Carl and I can handle this on our own. You need to stay at home to look after Dad. He needs you, more than anyone else.”

He moved his hands to her own and gave them a light squeeze. Her eyes instantly softened. But there was still pain in them.

“You know you can trust us.” His voice was much softer too. “He’ll be alright. We’ll get through this. All together.” He brought one of her hands to his face and kissed it, a chaste and loving kiss. It was so pure. Such a simple gesture, yet so much love conveyed through it.

He couldn’t help the soft smile that came on his face. It was so beautiful.

“Go now. Don’t wait too much,” her voice sounded broken, and it caused his chest to ache. “You said it yourself: we can’t afford to waste even one second,” her voice was more solemn then.

He gave her a tiny smile before he kissed her hand again and then let go.

“We’ll see you later. Come, let’s go.”

He and Karl rushed into the car, and Karl couldn’t help getting more and more anxious as they neared the hospital. He wasn’t really sure why though…  
Yet, he was fascinated by how Paul managed to drive the car so easily.

Such contradictory feelings for such an unusual situation.

*

The hospital was tremendous. And white. He had never been in one before. His brother had just shown him the one they had in Copenhagen.

Paul was pacing up and down what was supposed to be the waiting room while Karl was sitting down still and watching him silently. He wished he could do something to reassure him, but he guessed it’d be pointless. Even if he could speak English fluently he wouldn’t do it.

He had a feeling that the waiting was far from being over. They had already spent all night long waiting since they had arrived a bit late there. But it’s not as if he really had something better to do. Unlike Paul. He would have to miss work today since he was still there. But despite spending the whole night here, he didn’t seem to be that tired. He still had enough energy to pace back and forth the room. There was only the sound of his steps that resonated through the dead silence of it. It was like some kind of reminding of the clock that ticked and ticked and ticked.

………..  
………..………..  
………..  
………..………..………..………..………..  
………..

“Damn it!” Paul was growing impatient at some point. “How long do they intend to keep us waiting like this?!”

Karl remained stoic. There was nothing he could say or do to make the waiting end.

Paul sighed out of exasperation. He had finally stopped pacing up and down the room. After a while, he let out another sigh, but not one of exasperation this time.

“I’m sorry… I guess you’d rather be elsewhere than staying here to put up with me.”

Karl just remained silent and gave him a small sad smile. He hoped body language would be enough for this. He actually didn’t feel very much like speaking…

“Thank you. Thank you so much. The knife was a very good idea,” he sighed again. “I know simple words can never be enough. You’ve been spending a sleepless night because of us, and all I can find to say is ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘thank you’…”

Karl didn’t like to see him so distressed, especially if he was the cause of it. He had done what he thought was right. He didn’t need to be thanked. He didn’t want Paul to feel guilty. He didn’t mind being there with him. If anything, he would just fear he would not be needed. That his place wasn’t there, waiting with him.

But then after a few moments, a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

Maybe Paul just needed to be someone to go through this. He didn’t want to be alone to face this. But if he sought some comfort and reassurance, Karl wasn’t really the right person to be with…

“Once I see a doctor, I promise I’ll bring you back home.”  
Right after he said that the door finally opened. A man with a white coat entered the room. Just with a single look at him, he could say that he looked older than Paul. He was probably in his thirties. In his late thirties. Maybe in his mid-thirties.

“Has he woken up yet?”

The doctor didn’t look really reassuring.

“No, not yet. He is still in a coma. But don’t panic. He will be alright. He only needs some good rest and to be looked after."

Paul didn’t respond immediately. He looked thoughtful, but a bit less distressed.

“Will I be able to see him?”

“Yes, naturally. Sorry for the long wait by the way. The hospital has been bustling quite a lot lately."

“It’s okay, as long as I know he’s alright now, the rest doesn’t matter.”

The man nodded at him.

“Can I come back to see him later in the morning?”

“Of course. You can come and see him whenever you want.”

“Great.”

Paul turned his head to look at Karl. “I’ll bring you back home first as I’ve just promised. You’ve done quite enough. And you definitely need some rest.”

Karl said nothing. He wouldn’t object to what Paul thought was best.

“Just ask for Doctor Spencer when you come back.”

“I will. Thank you, Doctor.”

“Anytime.”

“Let’s go back home, Karl.”

The young Dane nodded before he stood up and went to stand beside him.

The man nodded at them before leaving the room.

Karl glanced down as his body couldn't behave normally anymore. He felt like he was ill, but he was sure he wasn't. He had a bad feeling. 

He felt this was only the beginning of troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening! :) 
> 
> As I keep in mind that this is only the beginning of the downward spiral for George, it makes me depressed...😢
> 
> I still hope you liked the chapter
> 
> Take care 💕


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul takes George with him for a long ride as the latter is still struggling to overcome his terrible loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!!! 🍾🎇🎉🎊
> 
> I think the worst is behind us now 😌
> 
> I hope that you will all have many blessings in the year to come 😊
> 
> Just one little thing about this update, the point of view switches to Paul's in this chapter. 
> 
> This is only the calm before the storm 😓
> 
> Anyway, take care and I wish you all to have a wonderful time with your loved ones💕

It was really hard for Paul to see George go through so much pain. Of course, it was the first time he’d been experiencing death. So he couldn’t have expected anything else…

His father always used to say when he was young that the more deaths you experience, the more trivial it becomes. He hadn’t experienced many deaths himself, so he couldn’t really agree or disagree with him. He had only lost some of his relatives. But they had never been killed…

He kept in mind that it would take him time to mourn, but he couldn’t stop living because of a death. He needed to be reminded that he would have to move on sooner or later. And leaving him for too long cloister himself in his room wasn’t that good an idea…he wanted to be there for him, even if he wanted to be left alone.

He forced him to go out with him. He couldn’t leave him a choice, otherwise, he would have never accepted to come with him. He was doing this for his own good. A bit of fresh air couldn’t be bad for him. Of course, as they were walking, he wouldn’t say a thing. Even if he was ignoring him, he was already following him, so this was already a big victory.

“Where are we going like this?”

Finally. Even if he sounded somewhat aggressive it was still better than if he hadn’t spoken at all. Yes, positivity is important, especially in such circumstances.

“We’re not going to walk for hours aimlessly, are we?”

He couldn’t help smirking at the tone he used. That was something he had got used to by that time, and he found it still better than seeing him totally down and crying his heart out.

“Just breathe. The air is warm, the sky is blue, and the sun is shining bright. Life isn’t that bad.”

These may have sounded like stupid and meaningless words, but they were true.

George was ignoring him again for a while, but he eventually replied.

“I don’t care about the weather. This isn’t the kind of thing that’s going to cheer me up. I would have preferred to have a dark, grey sky, raging with deafening thunderstorms, blinding thunderbolts, and harsh, ice-cold rain. It would have hidden my tears and reminded me of how much my own pain is insignificant compared to the vastness of the world.”

His aggressiveness suddenly decreased to turn into some flatness and monotony that made him sound lifeless as if he had lost his soul.  
Of course, he hadn’t been expecting him to react positively. It would have been way too easy. But at least for now, he was still composed. If he didn’t cry during the whole day, it would be an even bigger victory.

They were both silent. There was only the buzz of the City that reached their ears. People were living their own lives as if the war had never existed. It seemed that it hadn’t reached London. Well, it hadn’t reached it yet.

He remembered pretty well what his mother told him as a youth; how the German planes had bombed the city during World War One, how it had happened all of a sudden, and how it had taken people by surprise and created panic among everyone. Something he had been too young to remember at the time. Or perhaps it was just something he had subconsciously wanted to forget and repressed somewhere in the back of his mind. He could never be sure of this hypothesis.

“I can’t believe you’ve taken a whole day off just to look after me.”

Paul turned his head to look at George, but he didn’t say a thing. He just raised one brow. He wasn’t actually that surprised that he would say that.

“Have you already forgotten that we’re at war?” The words sounded bitter in his mouth, which he could perfectly understand, of course.

“I haven’t,” he replied plainly as he looked away from him to stare ahead of him. “But I don’t think missing work for just one day is gonna have any serious impact on the outcome of the war. It’s not as if the whole city was going to be devastated and the population wiped out just because of this.”

“If only…” he looked at George again, but he had good reasons to be taken aback this time. He wasn’t sure whether George had meant for him to hear this or not. It wasn’t uttered loud enough to be addressed to him, yet he could still manage to hear it.

He decided it would be best to just shrug it off given the context. Or perhaps it was simply just a way to twist the lion’s tail somehow. Anyway, he still wasn’t going to comment about it or ask questions.

They kept walking throughout the day, but not aimlessly like what George thought. He had a place quite precise in mind. They didn’t really take the time to stop to have proper breaks. But George didn’t look like he was tired. He just looked like he simply wanted this to be over with already, hence why he was keeping a good pace; so he could go back home more quickly. To be left alone again.

Or if he really was physically exhausted, he was hiding it very well.

Near the end of the afternoon, they reached their destination. It was a hill, one of the highest viewpoints in the London area, and one of the nicest as well.

Paul looked at George to see his reaction, or if he was going to react at all. But he didn’t. His face was stoic, hard as a rock. Or if he was feeling anything at all, this time he was sure he was hiding it very well. He had already noticed in the past he was pretty good at concealing his emotions, so there would be nothing new in that.

“D’ya remember when we would take you here each time you were staying with us? It was your favourite spot in the whole city. You used to say that because it seemed we were so close to the sky that we could have reached the stars and caught them. You even said that we could easily go on the Moon.”

He smirked all the way through his words. The memory was etched in his mind. The way George would look so enthusiastic just looking at the starry sky, and how he would bounce on the grass out of excitement. That was priceless.

He glanced at George who only looked annoyed.

“I was like four or five years old when I said that…”

“Yeah, the good ol’ times.”

George was staring at him with an indescribable look on his face. But he quickly looked away and glanced at the sky.

“Yeah…” he sounded a bit wistful as he said it.

He finally dropped his poker face.

“But it’s not as if we could go back in time.” He sounded much graver now.

He glanced at him and could see that moment of emotional openness was only fleeting.

If there’s one thing he had figured out by that time, it was that George was the kind of person who liked to keep things under their control, no matter the circumstances. He was one of those who didn’t like to show their weaknesses and vulnerability. He wasn’t like this as a child, but as he grew up he noticed this change in him.

Sometimes the harshness of life teaches you naturally how to toughen up.

He knew one or two things about it.

“No, unfortunately.”

His response had George glance at him again. But perhaps this wasn’t so bad a thing after all. There were moments in his childhood he wouldn’t relive for anything in the world.

Hey, if they had the chance to go back in time, why would it be only for the good memories?

The sky was still cloudless and the sun was shining bright. They had plenty of time before the sunset. The days were getting longer and longer as summertime was finally here. He sat down on the warm grass and enjoyed the feeling of the sun on his face. It was nice to get out of the city centre once in a while.

“Aren’t you tired?”

George didn’t look like he was willing to sit down any time soon. With his position, he was just silently saying: “Can we just go back home now?” He could perfectly imagine George saying it in his head.

“The pain from walking too much is nothing compared to the pain in my heart.”

Well…he should have just shut up.

He didn’t say anything for a while, staring into the distance, and side glancing at George every twenty seconds or so.

“Just come and sit down.” His voice wasn’t demanding. If anything, it had a tiny bit of regret in it. “We’re not leaving this place anytime soon. But you’ll be able to stand up again when your butt starts becoming sore.”

But he didn’t move.

“I just don’t want you to stand there like a fool for hours.”

Neither did he talk back or move. A little while passed.

“Stop worrying for me. I can handle myself.”

Of course, he would say that.

There was only one thing left for him to do.

In a split second, he was up on his feet and tackled George to the ground.

“Wha…aaaaaaat!”

Then he started tickling his sides relentlessly. George was struggling under him, trying to pull himself out of his torturous hands, but to no avail. Paul wasn’t going to let go of him so easily.

He was writhing like a snake, making noises that sounded half like laughs and half like squeals.

“S-s….”

Well, if it was the only way to have him laugh, then so be it.

“Stop!”

The more he was wriggling the wider Paul’s smirk was growing.

He was shouting now, but there was nobody near them, so nobody could assume wrong things.

“F-F-F….”

He was now trying to kick him with his feet, so Paul had to straddle him.

“N-No!…”

He was wriggling so much that his glasses were starting to fall off his face.

“Y-you…” he was nearly convulsing by now. “B-bas…tard…!”

This lasted for a little while until Paul deemed he had suffered enough. He rolled on the grass next to him, lying on it with his legs bent in half, and he got caught in a sudden fit of laughter. He laughed so much that it made his stomach hurt, but he just couldn’t help it. His laughter finally died down after a long moment.

He propped himself up on his elbows as he learnt again how to breathe normally before he sat up properly. George was sitting in the same way as him.

“You’re a fucking bastard, you know that, right?”

He could only smirk at this, and especially the way he said it.

“Yes, love you too.”

His cocky attitude only earned him a punch in his shoulder, which only made him burst into laughter again. He could see George shake his head from the corner of his eye.

“Seriously, how old are you really? You’re supposed to be a mature and responsible grown-up, but you’re definitely not acting like one.”  
Oh boy, how he loved his preachy lecturing. No, he wasn’t being ironic. He really did.

“Because I’m an adult now doesn’t mean the silly me has vanished.”

George shook his head again. And he was quite satisfied with himself.

Much time passed as they remained like this, silent and engrossed in the beauty of the sight before them. The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky.

“You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?”

They shared a look, and Paul instantly knew he didn’t need more for confirmation.

“Who else should I be thinking of?”

Paul kept staring at him as he was looking ahead of him once again.

“You.”

George locked eyes with him in one swift movement. But his lips remained sealed by silence. Paul sighed as he glanced momentarily away.

“The whole world doesn’t revolve around him. The world keeps moving on; many others have died before him and many more will if things keep going this way. I know you don’t care about the others, and I understand, that’s only human. But my point is that you should keep living, and remain strong; for him.”

His words were only echoed by the sound of the soft breeze that made their hair flutter slightly.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t like to see you so sad and crying for him. If he really loved you, he would wish to see you happy.”

He still kept quiet and chose to ignore him instead. Of course, it was always much easier to run away rather than facing the problem and solving it.

“How can I be happy again when he was the main reason for my laughs and smile?” He ended up saying in a low voice, sounding as gloomy as ever.

He was only trying to help, but he was under the strong impression that he was only making things worse. So he just kept his mouth shut. And another long while passed.

“Why…?” George trailed off. He sounded so broken. “Why did it have to happen to him…?”

Paul could feel his heart clench unpleasantly in his chest.

“I know many other people died, and that’s just awful… But why did he have to be a part of them?” He was clearly on the verge of tears, and Paul was just feeling even worse.

“He was only twenty-two years old…”

He was trying really hard to hold his tears back. He alternated between biting his lower lip harshly and chewing one of his nails.

It was too painful to watch. He put a comforting hand on his shoulder, causing George to twitch slightly.

“It’s okay. You can cry with me. I won’t judge you, let alone stop you. It’s okay to cry, even if it’s painful to see. But I won’t be selfish. You really need it right now.”

George glanced at him, with his watery eyes, and his vulnerability on full display.  
He slid his hand behind his nape to reach his other shoulder and brought him closer to him, closing the gap between their bodies.

George buried his head in the crook of his neck as he started sobbing.

“Shhh…It’s okay, I told you; don’t tryna hide. You can’t be strong all the time.”

By the time George stopped weeping, the sky was already starting to get dark.

What could be more tragically beautiful than bawling your eyes out in the sunset?

His grip on him loosened.

“You know, perhaps there’s that special someone out there who can help you heal.”

He just looked utterly lost and helpless as he kept staring away in the distance. He shook his head feebly as if it had become too heavy for him to turn it around.

“No…” he uttered as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “I don’t think there’s anyone that can have this power…no one will ever be able to replace him…”

It just hurt more to hear him talk like this.

“You shouldn’t be so adamant and pessimistic. You never know what tomorrow will be made of.”

His lack of reaction proved that he wasn’t convinced by his words.

“It’s really kind of you to try to cheer me up, but I don’t believe in such things,” he said after a few moments of silence.

He deemed it would be better not to press the matter, and instead to let time do its thing.

Perhaps he was a little bit naive, but he did believe in such things. He believed everything that happened happened for a good reason.

Otherwise, what would be the point of one being there on this earth in the first place?

“Only time will tell.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is still mourning and remembers the past...

During these last few weeks, George had been going through a real living hell.

With each day that passed, the pain and heartache were becoming even worse. Every bone in his body ached, painfully reminding him that he was still alive and suffering.

He was painfully aware that he could never see Nathan again, his smile that somehow always knew how to cheer him up whenever he had been feeling down, his pretty face, and especially his bright, beautiful blue eyes that always saw the good in anything. He could never touch him again, his soft skin that was always so sensitive to his caresses, his silky brown hair that he never really liked doing nicely like most men, or hug him to show him how much he wanted him in his life. He could never be intoxicated again by the smell of it, that was always so hard to define, but oh so good. He could never hear his voice again, that voice that was always so reassuring, his soft laugh, and loving words meant only for him. He was afraid he would end up forgetting the sound of it with the time that would pass. There would be nothing left of him, only one or two photographs which he would only be able to cry upon. And memories that would disappear forever when it was finally his turn to pass away, and that only caused the pain to be much greater.

All these things were playing on a loop in his mind. He just couldn’t get them out of his mind. It was worse than any kind of obsession. At times, he really wished he could have amnesia. It would make things much easier. But life was just merciless with him.

He felt somewhat bad for how he kept rejecting Robert, Margaret’s and Paul’s support and attempts at trying to distract him and cheer him up somehow. He knew they just wanted to help him because they really cared about him as if he was their own son, and he perfectly knew that Paul considered him as the little brother he could never have. It wasn’t against them, not at all. He was more than thankful for everything they’d done for him. He loathed seeing them so distressed and helpless just because of him and his broken heart.

He just felt he could never be happy again. His happy, positive self had totally vanished. That part of him had died with him.

Paul and Margaret kept telling him that time would make him heal whenever he saw them. But he was certain that time wouldn’t change a thing. That it would never relieve all the pain in his heart.

He was well aware of the fact that he wasn’t the only one on Earth to have lost someone dear to him. And that people have had to cope with it and overcome that terrible ordeal, but still.

Nathan wasn’t just some good friend he got along well with. No, he was much more than that.

His father had died during WW1, and his mother had committed suicide not long after giving birth to him. So he was raised by his grandmother. But when she died (in 1922), he was placed in an orphanage, having no other known relatives. He had been very unlucky in life, but this had never prevented him from enjoying life and the good things it had to offer.

That was the main reason why he had looked up to him so much and taken him as a role model as a child. But as he grew up he discovered that he wasn’t him, that he could never be, no matter how hard he tried.

He had met him at the age of seven. Right when he had been bullied by a group of boys after school. He had come out of nowhere and stood up for him when he had never known him. Yes, he had been pretty sure they had never met before. So, of course, he had found his bold gesture…surprising, to say the least. But what had been even more surprising had been the way he had managed to scare away his bullies. As if it had been no big deal for him; as if this had been the kind of thing he had been used to doing, coming to the rescue of unknown kids who were in trouble.

He had thought that even after he had practically saved his life, they would have just parted ways and never seen each other again. But apparently, destiny had had other plans for them.

Yet, why make their paths cross and make them become so close throughout time if it was only to make him die thirteen years later?

Why did life need to be so cruel? Why? WHY?

It seemed that it was just a game to the heavens, that they, humans, were just being manipulated like pawns by some sort of divine entity, whether it was God or anything else, he had no idea, even though he didn’t believe in God.

They had been seeing each other regularly, until he turned thirteen when his mother had decided to send him to a boarding school, Eton College, “the most prestigious school nearby”, according to her. She had always wanted the best for him. That’s what she had always claimed. But the best, according to her point of view. Which didn’t necessarily match his own vision of it.

He had never wanted to go to a boarding school in the first place, far from home. He could have just gone to some London local school, it wouldn’t have been a shame. But no matter how hard he had pleaded with her, she’d never change her mind. He had taken her decision as a punishment rather than believing the claim that it had been for his own good. She had kept saying that he would thank her later. But he hadn’t until now. And he didn’t think he was going to thank her anytime soon.

To go straight to the point, he had hated this boarding school. Its strict rules regarding everything, its posh people, especially the teachers and pupils. Oh, how he hated them, those posh people.

And that’s why he loved Nathan so much. He was unlike any of them, their polar opposite. Always so carefree, open-minded, making fun of them whenever he could. He had been a blast of fresh air among all this colourless, dusty ocean of boredom and austerity.

An unexpected knock on the door made him start and interrupted his stream of thoughts. It could only be either Margaret or Paul. He uttered a monotone “come in”, even if he’d rather be alone.

The door was opened immediately afterwards. It was Paul. He looked somewhat embarrassed as if he were looking for the right words to break some terrible piece of news to him. Should he fear the worst?

Paul closed the door behind him, looking at him before he approached with slow and careful steps as if he were already fearing his soon to come reaction. Now wasn’t really the right time for this kind of thing.

“Just tell me what it is. Go straight to the point. Don’t try to sugarcoat it.”

Did he really want to be nice at that precise moment? No, he didn’t.

He could see how he held back a sigh, and then he ran a quick hand through his hair.

“Mum, Dad, and I thought it was time for Carl to come back home.”

This definitely was the last thing he needed.

“Why can’t you just keep him with you?”

“Because my flat is hardly big enough for one person.”

“Then take a bigger one, and drop it.”

He didn’t intend to let him win the argument this time.

“Listen, I know the circumstances are quite special, but I think it’s best if you have someone to stay with you, rather than staying here all alone and depressed most of the time.”

He must have been kidding.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that bloke is definitely not the right person to cheer me up. If I had to choose someone, it could be anyone but him.”

Okay, it was war. But why out of all the families in London did he have to end up here? He could have been helped and accommodated by just anyone, really. But destiny had to decide it would be them.

Why couldn’t he just go somewhere else? London was big. He could be shifted into another family that was as charitable as them, or welcomed by an orphanage, or whatever, for all he cared.

“Alright. I’ll wait for one more week. But then, I swear I won’t leave you a choice,” Paul interrupted him again as he raised his voice.

He could feel his left eyebrow twitch.

“Just keep him with you if you love him so much, and stop bothering me!!!” He yelled, losing his temper.

He just wanted to be alone; was it too much to ask for?

Paul shook his head as he looked like he was about to scold him.

“I know you’re miserable and broken, but reacting like this won’t help you get better.”

Why could this conversation not be over already?

“How can you know what’s best for me, and what will help me? You’re not in my head, nor are you in my shoes. You don’t know how I'm feeling inside, and what I am really going through. You don’t know why I don’t want to get better because you’ve never experienced what I had with Nathan and the loss of that deep and special bond. So, please, don’t tell me what I should do and not do.”

Paul was left speechless, and that was the purpose he aimed for. He just stared straight into his uncertain eyes, his gaze unwavering and hard. The older male just ended up leaving the room not long afterwards, in utter silence.

He let his back fall back against the wall, as well as his head. He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut so he could try to escape from the harsh reality. But this only made them become wetter. His whole body was so shaky that they twitched uncontrollably and relentlessly under the forced closing.

He shouldn’t have pronounced his name.

Soon the tears started streaming down his face, and he was no longer to hold himself back anymore.

So many tears that would be wasted, poured for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks!!! 
> 
> Prepare for trouble and make it double! (No I'm just kidding, even though it's not really funny, but I'm not the funny kind of person ^^)
> 
> So from this chapter onwards, the POV will change to George's because I thought it'd be interesting to see what's in his head and how he really deals with this loss since he's the one to have lost someone close to him. Nothing more logical, right?
> 
> This will be a short series of chapters, until chapter 29. Chapter 30 will shift back to Karl's POV. 
> 
> I think I'll really have to change the ratings. 
> 
> I hope you still enjoy the story so far :) 
> 
> Thank you so much to the few people reading this story 🥰 It means so much to me ❤️
> 
> Take care 💞
> 
> Lots of love 😘


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in weeks, George goes out, but alone this time, and he reminisces the past once more...

For the first time ever since he had followed Paul outside, he left the house, all on his own, his hands buried in his pockets as he mostly looked down.

The streets were rather crowded, but it was as if he were all alone, or as if he were only a ghost. Even if he were to bump into someone, he wasn’t sure they would even notice.

He walked until he arrived at an old and disused warehouse in the South of the City. It was a huge building, so much so that you could put up dozens of families in it. But who would like to live in such a grim and ugly place? No one would. No one who was normal and decent. Only fools and madmen could accept living here.

Rumour had it that it had been a prosperous warehouse until it became bankrupt following the Great Depression.

There was only the sound of his footsteps echoing that could be heard as he crossed it. He went to the upper floor.

It wasn’t just any building. It was the place where he had had his first sexual experience ever. With _him_. They had been the only fools to squat in here.

He had never been interested in girls. Even as a child. They had never caught his eyes, no matter how pretty some of them could have been. But he became well aware throughout time of his keen interest in boys. One lingering stare at boys and men he knew he could never have, a thing that almost got him into trouble more than once. Unlike what most people said or thought, it was actually quite hard to know and say which men were into men or not just by observing them. It’s not as if it were written on their faces in capital letters.

But there were some exceptions. Like Paul. He had had the occasion to witness many times how flirty he always was with plenty of girls. He reminded him much of him in this regard. He _did_ love girls, no one could deny that or claim otherwise. He could remember getting jealous once he had realised and acknowledged his feelings for him. He had caused many arguments just because of it. He had never been one to like arguments; he had always been the one to ease the tension, make the whole matter seem like it was no big deal. And they had always ended up making up with sex every time. Peace would last for a while until he caught him again flirting with new girls. He just wasn’t the one love and monogamous type of bloke. He was quite libertine. And opened to various types of experiences. Like buggering males. 

Okay, he had kept watching random men he would run into, but it’s not as if he had flirted with them; so it didn’t count. This was only human. Everyone did this. This was just casual and fleeting. There was no harm in admiring handsome creatures. And just because some men were very good looking didn’t mean they could be someone you would have a serious love affair with.

Look, Paul’s best friend, Arthur, was a really handsome man. But he was as posh and uptight as he was handsome. Everything he hated. He really wondered how Paul could still be friends with a bloke like him. They were polar opposites. Neither did he know how the bloke could enjoy Paul’s company. This was a real mystery, about which he would probably never have the answer.

He knew it was wrong to look at men this way, and much worse to have sexual relations with them.

 _You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination_ .

Those words he had read and heard over and over again. It was so frustrating to be a part of a minority that was despised and belittled and hated by the majority. To hear that you were sick and twisted, and considered more dangerous than any of all the worst criminals.

But he had always made it feel alright, as normal as being into girls. It was both strange and fascinating how he had the power to change any serious matter into something trivial for the better.

But now that he was gone, it felt worse than ever to be labelled as a bugger. He had never chosen to like and be aroused by men. He just couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault. Why did this kind of thing have to happen to him? Why?

He was well aware that he was far from being the only one; but there was one chance in one million that he would be one of them, and it fell on him, like a piano that crashes on the ground and kills the person that happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

He took a good look at his surroundings as he stopped right in the middle of the room. It still looked the same as the last time he had come. Bare, dusty, dirty, and a bit smelly.

But the only difference was that he could never be here with him ever again, and share moments, good and bad, like the ones they had. He would never come back. That mere thought made his eyes all watery. He bit his lower lip hard as they started shaking uncontrollably. That thought was weird and scary, and the sensation that was associated with it was all the more so horrible. No matter how hard he would try every time, he could never hold them back that long. They always ended up winning; making him hate himself a little bit more each day for letting all his vulnerability take over his whole being.

Besides weeping wouldn’t bring him back to life. He had to keep that in mind.

His silent tears quickly turned into loud sobs.

“Nathan…”

It became twice as bad. He had to close his eyes as the whole sight was coming more and more unbearable to see.

“Why…” his voice was so shaky that he could hardly utter it properly. “Why…why did you leave me…?”

He was sobbing so much that his snot was flowing relentlessly from his rad and aching nose, only to slide between his parted lips and fall into his mouth. No matter how hard he sniffed to try to hold it back, it was as useless as with the tears. But he actually didn’t care; he just ended up swallowing it as if it were some eatable substance. They just mixed up with his tears, so he didn’t make any difference between the two.

“Why?!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “What did I do to deserve this…?”

He must have done something wrong. There couldn’t be any other explanation.

That was it. That was because of it. This was all because of his deviant behaviour. A shiver ran through his whole body and he froze in his spot. And to punish them both, the holy heavens made Nathan die, and let him live so he would suffer until the end of his life. The kind of torture that was a thousand times worse than death itself.

Now he was truly ready to start believing in God because of this. His body wouldn’t stop shivering.

It was a kind of warning in a way. If he kept having this kind of kink, who knows what might happen in the future. He didn’t want to know.

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen ever again. He could be normal too. He could change. He was going to change.

His tears finally died down as his fierce determination became stronger than any of his weaknesses and flaws.

He could be like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed that chapter too :) 
> 
> I'm so tired after work that I don't even have the motivation to write anything anymore...
> 
> Anyway, take care <3  
> xoxo


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! :) 
> 
> So...how should I put what I want to say...?
> 
> This chapter is awful; so read at your own risk... I'm still not ready for this

That same evening he hung out in the city centre. He walked a bit aimlessly as he didn’t really know where he should go exactly, his hands still in his pockets, and still alone.

He finally decided to go to a pub after a few more minutes of walking aimlessly, but not to the Greyhound. He was certain that if he went there he would see Emma, even if he tried to avoid her. And he didn’t want to see her.

So instead he landed in a pub that was located in the opposite direction, near the Thames. It was a pub he had never been in before, the “Queen Victoria.” He didn’t know whether this was supposed to be some kind of sign.

The place was rather crowded. Men, women, old, young. Distracting oneself was the only way to forget momentarily the sad and awful reality that was the war. He fought his way through the crowd and made his way towards the counter. He asked for a pint and just waited for it to be served.

He hoped Paul wouldn’t search the whole city for him, for fear he might do something stupid, like getting drunk. He could be a bit of a pain sometimes, playing the overprotective big brothers. He didn’t need that.

Why just doesn’t he go to hook up with Emma and then marry her?

After around ten minutes his drink was finally before him. A bit of alcohol could only help him make things easier.

He remained sitting down at the counter, intending to stay there until he finished gulping down his drink, but halfway through he was feeling hot, too hot. He needed some fresh air. So he took the glass in one hand and fought his way through the crowd the other way round, but halfway through this time, he found himself face to face with a girl. What most men would undoubtedly consider a pretty, or even beautiful creature. She had light brown hair and brown eyes pretty much like Paul, soft facial features, and a charming smile. She just looked much younger than him.

“Well, hello, you.” Her tone was seducing, making her sound like a real temptress.

She was dressed in such a way that he thought she was a tart.

She started wrapping her arms around his neck. Well, she sure was forward. And he found it somewhat weird. But he didn’t push her away or say anything to make her move.

If a woman could do this, he could for sure. This was his chance.

“Hello.”

The girl seemed to be satisfied since her smile widened.

“Tell me, what’s your name, pretty?”

Pretty? Never had anyone called him pretty until that moment. Not even his own mother.

“Do you really think I’m pretty?”

There was nothing flirtatious in the way he said it, but he needed to make sure about this.

“Well, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t even be talking to you right now.”

Oh well, she had a point.

He smiled at her.

“You’re not that bad too, you know.”

The girl pretended to be offended but a malicious grin was etched on her lips.

“You’re the prettiest thing I laid eyes on in ages in this pub.”

His smile became bigger.

“I’m George.”

The girl seemed quite pleased once again.

“Victoria.”

Oh, really? That was such a curious coincidence.

“Is that why you come to this particular pub?”

Her smile only became more mischievous as she tilted her head slightly to the side, never looking away from him.

“Perhaps this is just a way to draw all the attention on me.”

He took a quick look at their surroundings.

“It doesn’t seem to work that well,” he teased.

And she played along.

“Tonight the only attention that matters is yours.”

Oh. Well. He couldn’t really complain, could he?

“Good to hear.”

He was still feeling hot, but was it for the same reasons now?

“So, aren’t you going to buy me a drink?” She asked.

Of course, that’s what real gentlemen did.

“Just one minute. Wait for me outside.”

She showed him her perfectly white teeth as her grip around his neck loosened.

“Alright.” She let go of him and started making her way towards the main entrance.

As for him, he fought his way back through the crowd to reach the counter and asked for another pint. He joined her outside a while after. She was leaning against one of the windows.

“Here you go,” he handed her the full glass.

“Thank you.”

He gave her a small smile and took a sip of his half-finished glass. She took her first mouthful.

“So, tell me more about yourself,” she said.

But there was nothing interesting about his life. Why did she care?

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself instead?”

“Because everything about my life and my family is so boring. That’s why I go out so much.”

Oh. It seemed that they had one major common point. And that was reassuring somehow.

“To try to forget how lame your life is.”

“Yes, exactly. Do you too?”

Could there really be another reason for this? He didn’t think so.

He nodded his head in slow movements.

“Yes.”

Her smile widened again.

“If you listen to the majority of people, all girls and women should be submissive little things that must keep their mouths shut and serve their husbands. And that’s not what I want to be. Why should only men have all the power and the fun? We think too, we have desires, drives, wants. Yes, we laugh and cry, but we are human beings. Not animals that should be kept on leash and caged. And we have the most important power that men have never had. We give them life. They wouldn’t be here without us. We give them all our love, and that’s how they thank us.”

Wow. He didn’t expect the conversation to go like this. The nice smile on her face had totally vanished by the time she finished talking, and her eyes were glinting with a kind of fierceness. She was so serious that it was a little bit freaking.

He couldn’t deny that she was right though. Her small but convincing speech made him immerse himself in a thoughtful mood as he looked down.

Yes, without his mother he wouldn’t exist. Even if his father had contributed to his creation, she was the one to carry him inside her and then take care of him.

“Sorry… I kind of ruined the good mood. It wasn’t against you, you know.”

He looked up to lock eyes with her.

Yes, there was no room for depressive thoughts, sadness, and pain that evening.

His smile found its way back to his lips.

“No nuisances tonight. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

He raised his glass in her direction.

“To women, and their strength.”

He instantly brought her smile back. She raised her own glass too.

“To the pleasures of life.”

They clinked glasses. And then they drank without saying another word, for fear they might have ruined the mood again if they said anything else. Looks were enough. They didn’t need more.

After four more drinks or so, they walked away from the pub, tipsy and not really knowing where to go next.

Victoria took his hand and squeezed it.

“Not so fast, I can’t follow,” she whined.

His hazy mind slowed down, and so did his pace.

She forced him to face her and wrapped her arms around his neck as she had already done earlier. Their faces were only inches apart, and now he seemed to mind it.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked him, sounding happily drunk.

“‘Dunno. I thought you knew where we were going,” he slurred.

But she seemed to understand clearly anyway as he could see her perfect white teeth once again.

“You’re even prettier when you’re drunk.”

“Am I?”

She hummed in approval, sounding even happier.

Silence fell on them, and they just stared straight into each other’s eyes with their drunk faces. He was too drunk to think about what they should do now.

Victoria covered her lower lip with her teeth and quickly did the same thing with her upper lip. And then she licked them.

“I want you. Right now.”

Her tone was firm and demanding despite her drunkenness.

Well. How could he refuse her anything?

A smile both smug and naughty appeared on his face.

“Where shall we go then?”

He was still slurring, but seductively this time.

Her smile grew wicked. Yes, they were definitely up to no good.

Before he knew it, she was kissing him. Her lips were as soft as the finest silk. He could taste the faint aroma of beer on them. That sweet, sweet aroma. He fluttered his eyes closed to savour it better.

But she soon pulled away. He moved his head forward to kiss her, but she put one finger on his lips.

“Don’t be too hungry just yet.”

She pecked his lips swiftly before she let go of him and took his hand again, taking the lead. He just followed silently, letting himself be dragged wherever she wanted to take him.

They walked for a while. Five minutes, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty or more, he had absolutely no idea. But did it really matter? No.

All he knew is that they entered what seemed to be a house, or a flat, or whatever.

She led them into a roomy room where she let go of his hand and pinned him against the door at the speed of light, a bit too aggressively maybe, and then she kissed him again, roughly. But he wasn’t going to complain. His hands found their way to her hips, and he held them tightly.

Soon enough, she started biting his lower lip, again a bit too aggressively, but he opened his mouth as a response, and let her slide her tongue in it. Their tongues swirled in a dance of passion and desire as they brushed against each other exquisitely, teasing each other.

They kept doing this until they couldn’t breathe, obliging Victoria to pull away. He already missed the warmth of her lips and tongue and that taste.

Everything went quickly afterwards, maybe a bit too quickly.

They made out over and over again until she started focusing all of her attention on his neck, kissing, licking, biting, sucking, over and over again. Every bit of skin that was there, she didn’t spare one of it. She stopped abruptly, making him whine. He didn’t want to open his eyes.

Next thing he knew, she was undoing his belt, and one second after she was sliding his trousers down. She put her hands on his hips and then she was removing his underwear, languorously, caressing his legs as she did so. They shivered at the touch. Her hands moved back up even more sensually until they were back on his hips, their grip firm, and they shivered again.

He could feel her kiss his belly, gently. Once, twice, thrice, and then she stopped to focus on the skin just above his hip. She did what she had already done to his neck. His body was quite pleased by all the attention. She stopped after a while, making him moan once again, and instead, she stroked this bit of skin with her thumb. He could only hear himself moan as his body was aching for more. It seemed to be endless.

“You tart…stop being such a tease…”

She suddenly stopped the circular movement with her thumb.

He opens his eyes only to look down and see her smile mischievously.

“I know what you want. And I want you to beg for it,” her tone was full of vice.

Yes, sure, as if he was going to beg a tart. He wouldn’t be patient.

He grabbed her long hair that she hadn’t bothered to keep tied and tugged on it none too gently. She squealed as he did, but he didn’t care; he wasn’t going to settle for the soft way.

“Just take me, right now.” His voice was authoritative, hard. This was an order, and she’d better comply. “‘Am not gonna repeat it twice.”

In a flash, she had her hand wrapped around his manhood, but his grip on her hair didn’t loosen. He twitched at the sudden contact.

“Good girl. Keep going.”

She instantly started stroking his shaft at a good pace. He let out a loud moan as his eyes fluttered closed again. She kept stroking over and over again, intensifying her movements.

This was pure bliss.

He just pulled more on her hair, and after a while, she stopped but kept a firm hand on his shaft. Her tongue licked the head slowly, and he moaned again. She circled it with her tongue and kept licking it and he twitched again. Then she licked the whole shaft, every part of it in swift movements and he bucked his hips. He pulled her hair again and she finally took him into her mouth and sucked energetically. His head banged against the door. Could there possibly be any better sensation?

He could feel himself getting hard; who wouldn’t with such an expert mouth?  
He got lost in his symphony of moans and he ended up coming after a while.

His grip on her hair finally loosened as he was panting and trying to collect his senses.

The next moments were a bit blurry. He found himself being pushed on something that was certainly a bed, and in no time that girl whose name he had already forgotten was straddling him. She leaned down and kissed him and he eagerly kissed her back. And a few moments later she was undressing right before him. In no time she was fully naked. Her breasts were rather big and round. She straddled him again, and as she was above him her breasts were dangling. Next thing she did, she unbuttoned his shirt slowly and it wasn’t long before he found himself totally naked as well.

He was kissed and kissed again and again. Touched, caressed in such intimate ways.

“Now, take me, please,” the girl whispered lustfully in his ear before she chewed the lobe teasingly.

Next thing he knew he was the one above the girl straddling her. She was completely giving herself to him, that was the only thing his hazy mind could still process at that point.

He grabbed her legs and lifted her up slightly. There was nothing complicated in doing this, was it?

He brought her closer as his manhood looked for the right hole, not the one for sodomites.

He finally found it and he started bucking his hips, but something didn’t feel right….

He stilled as his manhood remained in her and waited for a bit before he tried again. But it still didn’t feel right. He stopped again. He tried over and over again, more times than he could count, but in vain.

He ended up falling flat on his face. He just groaned as he couldn’t move any longer.

At some point, he could feel one hand caress his bareback softly. And before he knew it, he was sitting up, and being held tightly.

“It’s okay, you know. I think we both drank a bit too much. But we will be able to try again when we are sober. He wanted to look at the owner of the voice but his whole vision was a blur. His cheek was brushed softly.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re taken.”

It was begged barely above a whisper, but he could still make the words out. He shook his head in slow and tired movements.

“‘am as free as a bird.”

He was suddenly kissed.

“Let’s get into bed then.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you're all doing well :)
> 
> So this chapter is even worse...my poor heart can't take it 😢

He woke up with a terrible headache. He groaned as he sat up. He held his head with his hands. It was pounding hard. He realised he was having trouble breathing as if he was lacking oxygen.

He buried his eyes in the palms of his hands, hoping this throbbing sensation would soon vanish. He just waited, and waited for a long while. But it was still as awful. He groaned again.

What had happened?

He tried to remember how he had got there, but his mind was a blur. So he decided to take a look at his surroundings but his vision was as blurry as his mind. He touched his face and realised he didn’t have his glasses on. He groped for them, but he couldn’t find them. Great. He could suddenly feel a weight shift beside him, and someone sighing. He froze.

So he wasn’t alone. He groped for this person, and his hand ended up touching a bareback.

His heart skipped a beat.

He couldn’t have…no. he couldn’t have hooked up with that Dane. It couldn’t be possible. He felt even worse at that thought. He stood up in a flash but he only ended up on the floor, making a loud thud as he fell.

No, no, no.

Well, if he had done that, he must have been truly desperate.

He groaned again as the horrible throbbing sensation wouldn’t stop.

Could there be a sensation worse than this?

He still managed to sit up, and as his palm was press flat against the floor, he noticed that it wasn’t the fluffy carpet he was used to. No, it was hardwood.

So this meant he wasn’t in Paul’s former room.

So where was he?

“George…” he flinched slightly at the unfamiliar voice and soon enough he could feel a hand touch his back.

“Are you alright?”

What a stupid question. Whoever asked it was a real idiot.

“Do I look like I’m alright?” He snapped back.

He could sense someone rush to his side.

“Let me help you.”

The girl tried to touch him but he pushed her away.

“Look, I may not see a thing, but I’m not completely disabled.”

“Sorry… Wait, let me get you your glasses then.”

But who was that bird, for fuck’s sake?

Not long after he stood up, she put his glasses on his face, and he took one step back.

He looked at her, and his mind finally connected all the dots.

He remembered everything.

“Victoria, right?”

A soft smile appeared on her lips. She was still fully naked. He wasn’t sure what was worse between this and waking up next to that Danish bloke.

She approached him with careful steps and wrapped her arms around his neck for the third time in not even one day, but much more gently this time. And this was followed by a soft kiss on his lips. He didn’t move, nor did he feel anything. Except for the throbbing pain in his head, but this had nothing to do with her.

“I feel like puking.”

She quickly let go of him.

“Let me show you where the toilet is,” she just said, obviously looking worried for him.

She didn’t look like she was in the same poor condition as him. How come?

He just followed behind her as she led the way, and for the next fifteen minutes he threw up all the beer he had swallowed. He had never felt so bad after drinking alcohol. He had drunk much more than what he had intended.

No, actually, he already had, but only with _him_.

No, no, no. He had to get a grip on himself. This was neither the right place nor the right time to cry. He had to keep in mind that he had accepted to follow her only with one goal in mind.

There was a soft knock on the door. He turned his head slightly to glance at it. He stood up and went to open it. She gave him a sympathetic look.

“Are you feeling better now?”

Well, now with that taste of vomit in his mouth, she wouldn’t be willing to kiss him anymore.

“I’ve got some water in the room for you.”

She still sounded concerned, and he was still feeling as indifferent as a few seconds ago. She took his hand and led him back to the room, and he just followed her.

Where the hell was he? He couldn’t help but wonder. Was it some kind of whorehouse? Most likely.

She made him sit back on the bed before she handed him a glass of water.

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

He drank it hastily so he could try to make this awful and disgusting taste disappear. She sat next to him on the bed, and stroke his upper back with one soft hand.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be feeling better soon.”

Her voice was as soft as her touch. He soon finished his glass.

“Here, let me fill it for you,” she took it from his hand and put some more water in it before handing it back to him.

That girl was rather hard to figure out.

“I thought you wanted to be the kind of woman that has the power, not the one that serves men.”

He glanced at her, and it didn’t seem to really disturb her.

“But it’s different with you. You’re not like all those men who think what I said out loud yesterday.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I may not, but I can see and feel it.”

What was she exactly? Some kind of fortune-teller or something similar to it, like a witch?

“I thought you just wanted sex.”

“That’s what you want too, don’t you?”

“Yes, so why are we even having that conversation?”

“You’re the one who started it.”

He sighed.

“Because I think you’re acting out of character for a girl that just wants some fun.”

He waited for her reply, but it didn’t come. So he waited for some more. But she just stroked his hair. It was too soft to be lustful.

“Just because we both want the same thing doesn’t mean we can’t respect each other.”

Okay. They really should stop speaking now.

He gulped down his second glass of water.

“Let’s just lay back into bed until we both feel ready,” she said as she was now tracing his jawline. “We really need some more rest.”

Well, he didn’t have anything better to do; so he just went for it.

*  
They tried again that evening, they really did, but it turned out to be even worse than what happened the previous night. Because he was now sober.

Of course, he didn’t fail to notice how Victoria looked disappointed, and he didn’t even dare look her in the eye.

He lied down on the bed next to her and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“We should probably wait again…” She ended up saying after a long moment of silence, somewhat awkwardly.

Couldn’t have she just kept her mouth closed?

They waited for what seemed to be endless hours to him, but he knew time wouldn’t change anything. They could wait for five minutes, one hour, five hours, one day, one week, months or even years, it would still be the same.

He ended up sitting up and buried his face in his hands. He just wished the earth could have swallowed him up at that precise moment.

He flinched as he suddenly felt her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright if you can’t get hard—”

“Can’t you just shut your bloody mouth?!” He yelled. “There’s nothing alright in it!!!”

She didn’t say a thing, but he wasn’t going to stop there.

“Come on, what are you waiting for?! Go ahead! Make fun of me and of how impotent I am!!! Go meet your friends and tell them how lousy an experience it was, and have a good laugh with them, come on!!! What are you waiting for?! Get dressed and leave!!!”

She was scared, he could see it in her eyes and her body language, but he couldn’t have cared less than he did at that moment.

“Come on, get up!!!” He gripped her arm harshly and pulled on it, making her shriek. “Put your bloody clothes on!!!”

He was gripping it so hard that he was sure he would leave a marking, but again he didn’t care.

She tried to get free out of it, but he just pulled harder.

“Are you deaf or what?!”

He let go of her arm only to grip her bare shoulders and he started shaking her violently.

“So, what is it now? Where’s the confident and powerful woman?!”

“Stop!” She shrieked as she was on the verge of tears.

“Your mouth is much better at taking things in rather than delivering fine speeches.”

It seemed that she was completely paralysed now.

“Get down on your knees,” he ordered. But she didn’t make the slightest move, and this only made his fury grow.

He slapped her hard in the face.

“I said get on your knees!”

She only squealed more. She tried to step back, but he gripped her again and shook her even more violently.

“When I say something, just do it!!!”

“Stop…” she begged as she started crying.

He slapped her again, even harder this time.

“And stop blubbering! I hate crybabies!!!”

He gripped her hair and pulled it, making her cry in pain.

“I’m gonna make you get on your knees if you don’t want to.”

He then pushed and forced her to kneel down, but she just let herself fall to the floor. He let go of her hair. And she was just sobbing louder. She curled up into a ball as she was lying on the floor, her nakedness emphasising has vulnerable she currently was.

She was completely broken. The fury in him was finally starting to die down.

It wasn’t her fault if he was twisted and deviant.

He crouched down and got near her, but as he touched her she flinched.

“Come on, get up.”

He wasn’t as angry now, but he could feel that she was still afraid of him.

He helped her stand up, whether she liked it or not, and then he scanned the room carefully, grabbed her clothes and shoes, and gave them to her.

“Just put them on and leave,” he ordered.

“But she didn’t react.

“Just do it!”

She finally did as told, and got dressed hastily, but her movements were shaky and messy, probably fearing that he would slap her again if she didn’t.

She had hardly finished when he grabbed her arm again and led her towards the door.

“Leave now!”

He pushed her out of the room and slammed the door closed. His back hit it and it didn’t take him long before he collapsed on the hard floor. He started shaking uncontrollably.

What was left of anger and harshness slowly left him and was soon replaced by tears. He became a real crying mess in no time.

He couldn’t hold back the many more tears that flowed out of his eyes as the sudden realisation dawned on him.

He could never be a man.

He could never be normal.


	28. Chapter 28

George woke up with a loud shout. He was attacked by something cold and icy. He started panicking, unable to brace himself for the worst. He wanted to take a look at his surroundings, but his vision was blurry; once again.

But then he realised he was completely soaked.

What the heck…?

His head was aching again, so bad, so much so that it was utterly unbearable. It seemed that it was about to burst.

What had happened again?

Oh yes, right. He obviously had drunk again, and too much to be in such an awful condition, and also completely soaked.

He just hoped there wasn’t anyone naked in the bed next to him this time.

He groped for his glasses, but they were nowhere to be found…he was used to letting them next to the bed’s foot on the floor, that way he wouldn’t squash them, but they weren’t there…

Where had he landed this time?

“Is this what you’re looking for?” He flinched at the familiar voice; no, rather at the tone that was used. This was foreseeing nothing good…

This time, he definitely was in Paul’s former room.

He waited for him to give his glasses to him, but he didn’t. And instead…

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!!! Have you lost your mind?! I’m already awake!!!”

He rubbed his eyes and wiped his face before running both hands through his hair. At least, he wouldn’t need to take a shower today.

“Thank goodness, you’re lucky your mother can’t see you so wretched.”

He bit his lower lip at the mention of his mother.

“Could we not talk about my mother—”

“Of course, let’s talk about you instead. You’ve been acting like a complete idiot lately!”

His jaw clenched mechanically. He hated that kind of lecturing.

“Just look at you! No, you can’t, but you should! The picture is both pathetic and dreadful.”

He’d rather not take a look at himself in a mirror. He would need his glasses on anyway if he really wanted to, in the first place. 

“Listen, we can all understand what you’ve been going through and how difficult it is to mourn the death of someone dear to us, but you should stop thinking the world revolves around you! Yes, you’re hurt and I can understand it’s hard to bear, but you don’t realize that you hurt other people with your self-destructive behaviour!!!”

He flinched at how angry Paul was. But…he? Hurting other people?

“Mum has been worrying herself sick about you and Dad has fallen into a silent depression! And what you’ve been doing isn’t helping at all, you see!!! So just stop with your crap!!!”

His chest tightened painfully. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone in anyway…especially not them, and how could he have not seen—

“You’d better get a grip on yourself, and fast! It’s about time!”

He could feel that behind all his anger he was hurt too; frustrated not to be able to make things better, and his chest was aching even more now. This adding to his headache made him just want to pass out. No, in fact, this might not be that good an idea…

“Here’s your bloody glasses!”

He could hear a soft thud on the mattress near him, indicating he had just thrown them at him. Then he could hear his footsteps, as light as silent as they might have been; he knew he wouldn’t stay any longer…

“Paul…” he said weakly, hurt prevailing in his voice. “I’m sorry…”

But the door was slammed closed. He let out a shaky breath. That’s definitely not how he had expected things to happen. He shifted his position and fell face flat into the pillow.

Why did everything have to be so complicated and so awful?

He could keep asking himself that question a million times, he was sure he would never have the answer to it.

And more importantly, what was he supposed to do now?

He didn’t have a single clue.

Couldn’t just that bloody pain go away and leave him alone?!

Yes, okay, he had caused it, but still. He was under the impression he was going to die. There definitely couldn’t be any worse sensation in the whole wide world.

He groaned both out of pain and frustration. He tried to think, but the pain wasn’t making it easy for him.

What he was going to say wasn’t against them, but they couldn’t know, let alone understand what he was actually going through, because none of them had ever been deviant and had that wrong, oh so wrong desire towards men. Well, Margaret wasn’t concerned because she was a woman and not a man, and because of this, she could understand even less. He just wished he could be like them; like his father.

But if he couldn’t get hard with one bird, he knew he couldn’t with any other woman. Yes, he had got hard when she had given him that blowjob, but he had been quite drunk, and a mouth was a mouth. It could be anyone’s mouth, it wouldn’t change anything about the sensation. As long as you didn’t associate it with the face and body corresponding. Yes, then, when you saw who you wanted to fuck, drunk or not, it became much more complicated.

He sighed loudly into the pillow.

He wondered how some men managed to do it. He was absolutely certain that there were some men who had a strong desire for other men too, but who managed to repress it and shag a woman to pretend that they were into women and then get married and have children.

He sighed again.

Maybe they just used some kind of drug, who knows?

Was there something medicine couldn’t do? Yes, a lot of things. There was still huge medical progress to be achieved, but this kind of thing, he was sure it could do.

Well, if he was truly sick, maybe it was high time for him to be cured.

***

Later during the day, he went back to the old disused warehouse. He definitely needed some fresh air after having drunk so much.

No matter how much it hurt, he just couldn’t help coming back there.

He went back to the upper floor and took very slow steps to go sit on the old mattress they used to share.

He cried over and over again. He had been crying so much for so long that it had become a trivial habit by that time.

He remembered the day when Nathan had announced he had to leave for the war. He had been so angry with him. Yes, he had had no other choice, but still. Conscription. A word he had grown to hate as the time had passed. That was what had taken his love away from him, the bloody war, those bloody Boche.

_Please, George, don’t give me the cold shoulder…. You know I have to…I can’t desert and escape._

_Please, I don’t want our last moment together to be like this. I want to remember your smile once I’m away, have it etched in my mind, your sweet and charming smile._

His anger had just been a way to hide his sadness and vulnerability. He had never wanted to look weak in front of him.

_How could I bloody be smiling in such a moment?! Can you tell me?!_

Yes, how could he have? Seriously.

But then he had taken him in his arms from behind, and he had tried to struggle free from his embrace, but in vain…

He had always known how to break the walls he had built to shield himself.

_Let me come with you! I don’t care what they say about my eyesight! I’ll go anyway! I don’t wanna be separated from you!_

_No, don’t say nonsense, you were not made to be a soldier. And you’ve hardly started your studies, and you need to finish them. You’ll be a brilliant doctor. I know it._

Him, a brilliant doctor…?

He had hardly managed to pass the exams for his second year. And now he was just a depressed mess, unable to think about his future anymore…

The future was as blurry as his eyesight without glasses.

He let out a heavy sigh as he stared down at his feet. It looked like his brain was slowly turning into some pulp; he could feel it. He couldn’t think straight anymore. Straight. He huffed as he let himself fall on the dirty and worn mattress. Maybe he had just been thinking too much and that he needed to stop for a while. But that was nearly impossible. How could you possibly stop thinking completely, well, except when you were sleeping, but that didn’t count. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but after a while, he realised he couldn’t.

He could only remember those painful memories to hurt himself a little bit more as the seconds passed. This was enough to make his head ache again.

He shifted uncomfortably on the mattress, but it wouldn’t change anything.

The seconds and minutes just seemed to be endless. Endless pain. A punishment for eternity. Well, it’s not as if he were going to die anytime soon since he couldn’t go to war. And the Boche still hadn’t started their bloody bombing.

He should have never let him go.

Even if it had meant he would have had to kidnap him, lock him away in some place where no one would have ever been able to find him, it wouldn’t have mattered, at least he would have still been alive and safe.

It had been the biggest mistake he had ever made in his life.  
And now he only had regret eating him up.

No. He couldn’t get back in time.

He should have known.

He shouldn’t have let him make him so vulnerable and meek. He shouldn’t have bought his bloody lies, saying everything will be alright, we’ll see each other again soon.

He hated him so much. He hated him so much with all of his heart, guts, and soul; his whole being hated him so much. He hated him more than he had ever hated anyone in his whole bloody life.

He hated him for making him fall so hard for him, for becoming his everything, for making him jealous so many times, for leaving him, and for hating him.

“Bloody bastard…” he blurted out as he was fighting the new tears that were ready to stream down. “At least you don’t have to endure suffering anymore…”

That's part of the reasons why he hated him.

It was just…it was just too easy to die…to let go of everything you had or the little you had. 

This was not fair.

If it wasn’t for him to remember him, it would be as if he had never existed.

That thought was truly terrifying.

But remembering was so awful.

He suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs before he hit the mattress with his fist.

He really should stop thinking. What was the point in overthinking anyway? This wouldn’t bring him back.

Maybe the dead don’t like it very much to be thought of too much.

Maybe they would just like to rest in peace without being the center of attention of the living.

Who knows.

No one could confirm that to him.

“Bloody reality…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! :)
> 
> So I've given up summaries, but this isn't a big deal is it? 
> 
> I hope you are all still enjoying the story so far.
> 
> Honestly, I can't believe it's already been two weeks since the New Year started. 
> 
> Anyway, take care <3
> 
> xoxo


	29. Chapter 29

George was on a beach, a huge and empty beach that seemed to be endless, except for the sea. The sky was cloudy, but it wasn’t raining. He looked around for someone, anyone whom he could recognize. He was feeling completely lost. He had no idea how to get out of there. It was as if he were trapped. There wasn’t even one boat on the sea. He walked aimlessly, in the hope of finding something or someone that could help him. But it seemed to be completely pointless.

There was no way out.

His breath started becoming shallow and ragged. He spun around, looking helplessly at his surroundings. Breathing became more and more difficult with each second that passed.

He walked aimlessly again, the panic in him keeping him going. As he was still roaming, he heard some faint sound in the distance. Of course, he was intrigued by it, so he kept walking until he got close enough to see what was the source of it. For some reason he ignored, his heart was beating faster and faster. Maybe because he was walking too rapidly. The sound became more and more distinct as he came closer. He stopped short when he could finally associate the sound with an image.

It was a human body lying on the sand. And it was calling for help.

The voice was still too faint to be heard clearly, so he had to get closer, much closer. When he finally was near the body, his mouth fell agape out of shock. A shiver ran down his spine, a shiver of horror. He felt his legs were suddenly becoming like jelly. And next thing he knew, his whole body was quivering, and wouldn’t stop.

He couldn’t be mistaken. The sight before him was clear.

“No, no, no…” his voice cracked as he trailed off this simple, yet ineffective word.

He fell to his knees abruptly as his legs couldn’t stand his own weight any longer.

“N-Nathan…” He couldn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice as he finished pronouncing his name.

The other male struggled to turn his head to look at him. An indescribable pain rushed in his chest and made his heart ache more than it had ever ached before as they locked eyes. His piercing blue eyes that looked always so bright and lively were now looking lifeless. And if it weren’t for his arms holding him back, he would have completely collapsed on Nathan. But they were shaking violently, he could feel it. He hoped they would be strong enough not to let him fall.

“G-g-g-g-george…” his stuttering was followed by wheezing. “Y…you…” The ache in his chest was becoming more and more intense as he witnessed how he struggled to say a single word. “…found…me…” his breathing between each word was awfully loud, accompanied by some kind of wincing. It seemed to be so hard for him to breathe that it was hurting him. George’s heart shattered into a million pieces at the thought.

He could feel his own throat constricting, and a lump formed in it, making him unable to say anything back. He couldn’t stare into his dull blue eyes anymore. It was too hard. Instead, he looked at the rest of his body. He noticed the huge bloodstain on his clothes. The pain was becoming much worse now. He saw how the blood was flowing, flowing out of him through his clothes, draining all the life out of him. He had to stop it. He didn’t think twice about it, and put his hands on the wound in a flash and pressed on it in spite of his arms that were still trembling.

“Hold on…!” He cried desperately. He could feel his eyes were starting to become wet.

He dared look into his eyes again, only to be more broken.

“I-I’m…s-s-s…s-sorry…”

Don’t speak… he wanted to tell him. You’re wasting the little energy that’s left in you. But the words wouldn’t come out.

His throat was tightening as if he was going to be strangled if it tightened too much.

“…I…I…b-broke…m-my…p-promise…”

Could the pain be any worse? Apparently, it could.

He started shaking his head frantically. He pressed on the wound harder, but he could feel his hands were totally soaked. Quite an unpleasant feeling, but he couldn’t have cared less about it at that moment.

He looked away again from his dull blue eyes. He just stared blankly into space, at the endless beach of white sand, whiter than any kind of sand he had ever seen, which he found a bit strange.

He flinched as fingertips brushed ever so slightly against his soaked hand.

“S-stop…i-it’s…t-too…la…”

He started coughing before he could even properly finish, causing George to look at him in panic. But it wasn’t just some casual coughing. He was coughing blood. George could feel himself freeze. The pressure of his hands slowly decreased. Yet, he didn’t remove them from him.

The blood kept flowing again and again. His hands were sinking in a pool of dark red blood. He couldn’t stop it. He didn’t have anything with him to stop it. His hands wouldn’t be enough, he realised. And another shiver ran down his spine. He looked back at his face, and much to his horror, he had become much paler within only a few seconds. A violent pang in his chest shook him. He started shaking his head frantically once again.

“No, no, no…don’t die, don’t. Don’t. You can’t die…” he thought he was going to suffocate even if he stopped speaking. “I…I need you…you can’t leave me…”

He stared straight into his eyes as he spoke. But they weren’t blue anymore. They had turned into a faded grey, a grey that looked ugly before he could witness that shift.

“Y-you…w-won’t…b-be…a…” he coughed again, but this time it was more like a coughing fit. The blood kept coming out and wouldn’t cease, making the sides of his face all bloody.

“No, no, no, no, no…” His no’s were hasty, desperate, his voice completely broken, like his heart.

He leaned down to kiss his lips one last time, but he could only taste blood. So much blood…too much blood. So much so he could have drunk it.

He leaned back swiftly, his whole body shaking more violently than before. He could feel his eyes becoming wetter and wetter.

His lover tried to speak, but there was only a throaty sound that came out of his bloody mouth. It was like an animalistic groan, except that there was nothing ferocious in it; like a sound of agony…

There was so much blood in his mouth that it was preventing him from saying anything else.

“I…” the sound was somewhat stifled by the blood, but he could still comprehend what he meant. “l-love…”

He finished with the same kind of sound, and his lips went still. His eyes fluttered close. George expected the pain in his body to hurt him much more, but it didn’t happen. No. His body went numb. It was as if he couldn’t feel anything any longer.

He looked like he was sleeping like this. But there was something truly eerie in it.

Yet, with all this blood it wasn’t hard to say that he had just died.

The truth as it was; plain, and cold.

He licked his lips that were so dry, just like the rest of his mouth, with a hesitant and shaky tongue. It wasn’t long before he could feel something wet rolling down one cheek, then down the other. It became wetter and wetter as the seconds passed.

He finally removed his hands from his stomach and used them to wipe his face that was soaking with fresh tears. He rubbed it, as he realised wiping it wouldn’t be enough. But the salted liquid just wouldn’t stop streaming down his cheeks. It was burning his eyes so hard. He rubbed them harshly, but it just seemed to be making his pain even worse.

He groaned in frustration. He hated that burning and stinging sensation.

He ended up removing them from his face because he didn’t want to keep doing that forever. But he froze again as his vision wasn’t blurred any longer.

He could only see red everywhere. A red redder than any he had ever seen. He looked in the distance as he could feel his heart pound in his chest, and his own blood rushing into his temples. The sand wasn’t white anymore. Everything was red. He turned his head slightly. The sea had vanished. The water had been drowned by blood. He felt like he was going to suffocate again. Or maybe it had never really stopped. He just hadn’t paid any attention to it.

He looked away and his eyes fell upon his body. He started shaking again. He was being drowned in blood, swallowed by it, it seemed. He wanted to stop it, but his own body wouldn’t allow him to do anything. He wanted to say something, but neither would his lips part. They were so dry that it seemed that they were glued.

His body was becoming unbearably hot.

He was feeling as though his heart was going to burst. He put his left hand on his chest. But as he pressed against it, he could feel something wet. He removed it to look at both his hands. This time his arms started trembling uncontrollably. They were covered in red, that same red that was everywhere. They were the same hands with which he had just wiped his face and rubbed his eyes, he realised.

His own blood was blended with his tears. No. Not his own blood; only his own tears.

His…

His hands were shaking so much that he couldn’t even see them clearly anymore. He looked away, but everything was blurred by red.

He was gone. Forever. He couldn’t breathe any longer. Did that mean he was going to die too? And join him?

No. No. No.

At that stage, his brain wasn’t functioning normally anymore.

He had let him die.

No. No. No. No. No.

No.

He finally found his voice back and screamed at the top of his lungs.

What…

Everything had just disappeared. The beach, the sea, the blood. He was completely lost. Everything was now just a blur. He took a close look at his surroundings, and then he realised…this had been all just a bad dream…?

His breathing was shaky and uneven. And his body was all in sweat. He licked his chapped lips, again with a hesitant tongue. He felt the sheets shift. He turned his head and managed to make out Karl’s shape sitting up.

Oh, right, he had forgotten he was back.

He kept thinking it would have been better had he stayed at Paul’s. The situation wasn’t optimal for either of them.

He let out a loud sigh before he glanced down at his lap.

He thought again about the nightmare he had just had. It had seemed all so real…

He could feel himself shivering again. And his heart was thumping against his ribcage. Now the bloody images wouldn’t leave his head…

It was real torture.

“Go…just go away…leave me alone…” he whispered weakly, trying to shout but he was too vulnerable to do so.

Even if he kept his eyes open, they kept on flashing upon his mind, like an awful movie. The worst movie he had ever seen.

“Go away…” he just sounded like a small and fragile, wounded and scared animal, and he absolutely hated it. He brought his legs to his chest and hugged them tightly before he buried his head in his knees.

He really didn’t need to have that dream. He was already damaged enough.

All at once, he could feel the sheets shift again, and something move. No, someone, not something. Inanimate objects couldn’t move on their own.

Oh right. Again, he had momentarily forgotten about his presence.

He shifted his position and patted the space next to him, which was empty. He had just stood up, but why?

“What are you doing?” He asked, not even bothering to spare him a single glance.

“Leaving.”

Leaving…wait, don’t tell me…

He thought his words were meant for him.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Great, now he was going to think he was mad…

But did he care at all about his opinion after all? Absolutely not.

What now? Was he going to try to run away again?

He didn’t hear his footsteps, so that meant he remains still. He was probably staring at him, and he didn’t like it at all when he was staring straight into his eyes with that unreadable look on his face. It was kind of creepy. So either he gave him a spontaneous answer, or he sodded off.

He sighed in slight annoyance.

“Just stay, you idiot.”

He flinched as the images came back abruptly, without warning. They left him alone momentarily while he was focusing on this bloke only to hit him with full force just to have the pleasure to torture him even more.

“Jeg forstår, at du hellere vil være alene. Jeg vil ikke tvinge min tilstedeværelse til dig.”

I understand that you’d rather be alone. I don’t want to force my presence on you.

What? What was he jabbering about?

Why did he have to talk to him in his mother tongue when he knew he couldn’t understand a single word of it?

This was really annoying.

“You know, I didn’t learn Danish while you were not here.”

No answer, no reaction, nothing. It was really frustrating; even if he spoke Danish, at least he spoke, so this was better than nothing. No, in fact, he wasn’t sure what was worse between him speaking Danish and his staring at him with that blank look on his face.

Why was he making such a big deal of it? Seriously, he shouldn’t be giving the bloke so much of his time and attention.

“Just come back into bed,” he ordered as he stood up swiftly and groped around before he inadvertently touched his face none too gently. He grabbed his wrist in the same way and pulled him back towards the bed. “Just lay into bed and don’t move!”

He pushed him on the bed, and he made a thump as he fell on it, unable to prevent his own fall.

“Do you think I’m pleased to have to share this room with you?! No, I’m not! But I’m still forcing myself because I don’t want to become a tramp, okay?! It’s already complicated enough as it is, so don’t make it worse!”

He sat himself down on it, and wanted to lay back in it, but…

“Move on your side of the bed! And just try to go back to sleep.”

He forced him to budge until he was sure he was pressed against the wall. He was careful himself not to fall off the bed because he really didn’t need it at that moment. And especially, he didn’t need to squash his glasses.

He was afraid to close his eyes now, but would keep them open be better? He wasn’t so sure of it.

He had taken sleeping pills for all the sleepless nights he had had until that night. All the pain wouldn’t leave him some rest. It didn’t need rest. It was always there, rooted in him like weeds. Even when you tried to remove it, it always grew back twice as much and in no time. But only when he thought he could have at least the tiniest bit of sleep, it even attacked his subconscious.

He couldn’t keep on going like this; otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to cope for much longer, he knew it.

He sighed out of despair and helplessness.

He just wished he could fall asleep and never wake up ever again, so he couldn’t feel all the pain anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers!!! I'm back! :) and I'm glad to be back :) 
> 
> So this chapter is as depressing as the previous ones...no, I think it's actually even more awful... 
> 
> Anyway, take care of yourselves and your loved ones 💕
> 
> xoxo


	30. Chapter 30

Death, death, death.

That’s all he could think of. It was everywhere. In the outside world and in his head. So many people dying everywhere, every day, most of them because of natural causes, and many others without having asked for anything, powerless and begging to live for a bit longer. Some died painlessly falling into an endless sleep while others died in atrocious pain, such was the cycle of life.

It was absolutely horrendous when you thought about it. How life is actually meaningless.

You come into the world without even asking for anything, you are raised and taught to have an education, then if you’re lucky enough you go to college to have an even more prestigious education, once you get a job you do the same thing for the rest of your life, and again if you have the chance to get old enough you retire, but then what? You wait for death to come and take you, that’s all.

You eat, you drink, you sleep, you wake up, you shag, you laugh, you cry, you die.

Just trivial things to end up under the dirt, devoured by disgusting bugs. And no one will remember you in the end when everybody’s dead, nobody will remember anybody. It's just as if all the memories, all the moments you lived, words, and actions had never existed, never happened. Unless you become quite famous so newer generations of strangers won't forget you. That’s just how it is.

These thoughts had been obsessing him for a while, but this wasn’t the worst part.

Death.

Blood.

Pain.

He always saw them whenever he closed his eyes. Always the same images of the same dream. So he had stopped to close his eyes; but even when his eyes were opened, the pain was just more intense every day, and he saw the blood on his hands, on his clothes.

This was a real living nightmare.

He could hear voices too. His voice. Talking to him whenever he expected it the least. And he just wanted it to stop. It just made the pain even worse. He became afraid of it, of what it would say, its judgment.

He would reply to it out loud, either begin it to shut up or getting angry at it. There was never a happy reaction on his part.

He couldn’t help thinking it was all his fault. He hadn’t been there to save him. He was supposed to become a doctor, and he hadn’t even been there for the one who had needed him the most.

He had let him die.

Of course, he should have held him back!!!

What an idiot, what an idiot, what an idiot, what an idiot, what an idiot, what an idiot, what an idiot!!! A bloody idiot he was!!!

He should have known he couldn’t trust the government, those bloody bastards, sending innocent men to give their lives for what? He didn’t even know. And they were still alive! They hadn’t fought!!!

It’s easy to give orders and manipulate your own people like puppets when you know you don’t risk anything. It’s just utterly disgusting.

How could they possibly look at themselves in a mirror?

If there were people he could kill, they would be his first choice.

But he was just a powerless idiot.

He couldn’t be a savior, rescuer, he couldn’t be a merciless killer, he couldn’t be normal, then what could he be?

A worthless idiot.

Great.

There couldn’t be anything more humiliating. Oh yes, there was one thing actually. One thing he wished he could forget, but whenever he thought he could it always went back to slap him hard in the face, to mock him, and it would spit at his face too if it could.

He really, really, really wished he could stop thinking too. But it was simply impossible. His mind just enjoyed torturing him too much. Nothing could work against it.

He had been sitting on the floor near the bed for ages, it seemed, now. He just didn’t have the strength or will to stand up any longer. He glanced at the window. The sky was darkening, meaning the night would come soon.

He could feel his whole body shiver, it just wouldn’t stop. His hands were icy cold. His veins didn’t stand out. They were hardly visible, but the bones under the skin were quite visible. His fingernails were dirty, long, and ugly. It looked like he hadn’t trimmed them in ages.

He could feel his eye twitch suddenly. Something he had got used to by that time.

Now’s the right time, he thought.

If he didn’t do it now, he would end up in an asylum. Or worse.

He let out a groan as he struggled to stand up. There was no one to disturb him, but he still had to be quick.

He made his way to the bathroom with slow steps as he was looking completely lethargic, looking like a dead among the living.

He stared at himself into the mirror, and what he saw wasn’t pretty to see. This reflection of himself couldn’t have been truer and more genuine than it was. He looked totally empty, broken. His face was ravaged by the lack of sleep and self-care, twisted by his inner torments, worries, and pain; it was absolutely terrifying to look at.

Yet, he didn’t look away; neither did he move. He didn’t care at all about his physical appearance; it absolutely didn’t matter.

Just honestly; who would want him? Who could love him like he loved him?

What could he have seen in him anyway?

He was just left bitter by the ordeals that life had put him through. He didn’t have his positivity, carelessness, free spirit. He was nothing like him. He had thought he could be strong. Strong and independent. But he’s never been.

Death wasn’t actually a bad thing. It would free him from all the pain, all his demons. And one less human being in the realm of the living, what could it possibly change?

It’s not as if his death was going to have a major impact on the world, cause chaos, or anything.

A meaningless death for a meaningless life.

The lack of sleep, the endless remorse. The excruciating pain. This was all too much. He was tired of trying so hard to live normally.

No one could do anything for him. It was too late, much too late. He was too far gone already. He just couldn’t take it any longer. He just wanted it to end. Nothing else mattered.

He took the razor and stared at it with crying and aching eyes.

There was no point in living this awful and miserable life without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's good to be back again! :) I hope you're all doing well :)  
> Sorry, updates have been less frequent lately...  
> But this chapter is so depressing...Hope you liked it though...


	31. Chapter 31

“If you need anything, or if there is a problem, you call this number, okay?”

Karl nodded as Mrs. Hopkins kept repeating the same thing to him, to make sure he had understood, or that he would do it. She had shown him how to use their telephone. It wasn’t that hard.

They were going out to see some friends, well at least it was what he thought he had understood, but maybe he had got it wrong.

“Margaret, I think he has understood. You’ve been repeating the same thing to him twenty times in the last five minutes. He is not dumb.”

Said woman looked away from him to stare at her husband.

“I know he is not. I just cannot help it. You know how I am.”

“Stop worrying so much for him. Nothing will happen to him while we are away.”

“I know nothing will happen to him. It’s just that…”

They exchanged a look that seemed to be enough for them to understand each other.

“They will be okay on their own, they can stay alone,” Mr. Hopkins assured her, but he didn’t seem to be really sure of it himself.

“I will call you if there’s a problem,” Karl assured them both.

Why should there be a problem anyway?

“See?”

Mrs. Hopkins stared back at him and gave him a soft smile.

“I know you will, dear. I just feel a bit guilty about leaving you alone, I mean, it won’t really be entertaining…”

“It’s fine.”

He absolutely didn’t mind staying there alone with George.

Her smile widened a bit. She grabbed his face before she kissed him on the forehead.

“We won’t get back too late.”

Karl nodded again as she let go of his face.

After that, they left the house swiftly.

He stared at the door with a passive face. He remained still for a long moment until he finally looked away from it to look down at the piece of paper on which Mrs. Hopkins had scribbled the number to call. He crumpled it and stuffed it in his pocket.

He wasn’t sure about what he should do now. George was upstairs, and he knew he didn’t want to be disturbed. It was a bit too early to go to bed.

He could have stayed with Paul, hadn’t he been spending the evening with Emma.

He thought about what he could potentially do. He could try to do a bit of writing, but he knew it would be too difficult for him all on his own.

Or he could play chess. He just had to find the chessboard.

He made his way to the living room and looked for it, but he wasn’t there. Wait. He remembered the first time Mr. Hopkins had shown him how to play. He had left the living room to go and fetch it. It couldn’t be either in the kitchen or in his and Mrs. Hopkins’s bedroom. So it could only be in that one room where he had never been. He guessed the couple would let him go there without asking for permission. He opened the door and entered it swiftly. It was spacious, filled with wooden furniture. There was a huge desk in the back. He took slow steps across it to get a closer look at it.

Once he was near the desk, there was a particular photograph that caught his attention. He grabbed it and examined it carefully. There were two young boys. One was probably about three or four years old, and the other one in his teen years. But their age difference didn’t seem to make them any less close. The older one was holding the youngest one in his lap, and they were both smiling. They really looked alike. They were most likely brothers. Karl brought it closer to his face. They looked vaguely familiar. Yes, they both looked like Mr. Hopkins. But in much younger versions of him, of course.

He had never wondered whether he or his wife had siblings, but now that he was seeing them, he found a sudden interest in it. It brought a smile to his lips. They looked good together. It made him think about his own siblings.

They did have family photographs back at home. Cameras were the only kind of machinery his parents were willing to have in their house and use.

He just hadn’t thought about taking some of them with him.

_It’s alright, you could’ve never thought you’d stay away from home for so long without them._

He focused his whole attention back on the two black and white smiley faces. He couldn’t even say who was the oldest of the two. Mr. Hopkins or his brother?

Tricky question.

He put the photograph back in place and turned around to scan the rest of the room. It was probably in the tremendous piece of furniture. He approached it, opened all of the doors and drawers, and ended up finding it after a minute or so. He took it carefully, even more carefully as the last time he had taken it, and went to the living room. After putting it down on the round table, he started playing immediately, with the black side.

This became a talk between him and himself in his head. A talk that could be on the edge of the argument sometimes. He sighed at some point.

_Loneliness._

He shook his head as he shrugged off the thought and resumed playing. Distraction was bad in that kind of game.

He stopped after twelve games. The Black and the White both won six of them. So it was all good.

He smiled satisfied at himself and the way he played. Then he looked out of the window. The sky was dark. He hadn’t even seen the time pass.

It was time to go to bed.

He brought the chessboard back in the room where it belonged, putting it back in its place before he went upstairs. But surprisingly, when he entered the bedroom, he couldn’t spot George anywhere. He scanned it carefully, but he was nowhere to be seen. And he couldn’t be hidden under the bed or in the wardrobe. And he couldn’t be downstairs. Unless he had gone while he had been playing, and he had been too focused on the game to even hear him. He went to check it out just to make sure.

But he wasn’t downstairs. He went back upstairs and stopped in the middle of the hall. There weren’t hundreds of possibilities anyway. He was most likely in the bathroom. Where else could he possibly be at such a late hour? Out? No. Or…could he?

He decided to check the bathroom first. It would be quick. But as he grabbed the knob, he noticed he couldn’t open the door. This wasn’t normal. The last time he had locked himself in the bedroom, they had found him unconscious.

Wait. Maybe he just didn’t want to be disturbed if he was naked and having a shower. That’s what normal people did.

He let go of the knob and pressed his ear against the door. He couldn’t hear the water running, or any other noise for that matter.

Maybe he was just getting dressed, or…what could you do in a bathroom except showering, drying yourself, undress and dress? Wash your hands, get your hair done. And when you were alone, you didn’t need to be noisy to do these things. So there was nothing to be worried about.

But what if there really was a problem?

He just couldn’t take any risk. This time he was alone, so he couldn’t let anyone else make the decisions for himself.

He knew calling his name and knocking would be useless, so he just rushed downstairs, headed towards the kitchen, took a knife, and went back upstairs; and he did what he had done a few weeks earlier. He managed to have the door opened after a few attempts, and he entered the bathroom without wasting another second. But he couldn’t see George anywhere. If the door had been locked, he was obviously there.

What…What was really happening?

His skin was suddenly tingling. His breathing began to become slightly irregular.

“George…?”

He waited for an answer. But as expected, it never came. He took slow and cautious steps across the room and headed towards the bathtub.

He froze once he was near it, and his heart skipped a beat. His eyes widened, and then his heart caught in his throat.

This…this…this couldn’t be real…

He heard something fall on the floor, but he didn’t even pay attention to it.

No, no, no, no, no…why…what…just what..how…

He had never seen so much blood in his entire life…it was…it was…

Wait.

He flinched as his brain suddenly caught up.

“George!”

He kneeled down on the floor and dove his hands into all this blood, no matter how frightening it could be. George’s life came first.

It was water, he realised, bloody water. He caught George’s body, but he struggled to get him out of the tube. He let out small grunts as he was straining. He just couldn’t leave him in that bloody water.

_Come on! Now’s not the time to be weak!_ His inner self shouted.

His grunt intensified as his body strained more and more. He finally managed to lift him out of the water, and he almost fell to the floor but caught himself just in time.

He stared at his unconscious body as his own body started shivering. His legs were soaked, but he knew it wasn’t because of that.

He suddenly noticed the unusual marks on both of his forearms. Blood was flowing.

“Nej…nej…” he uttered with a shaky voice.

He put his hands on them and pressed, hoping it would stop. But he could only feel his hands becoming wet. He abruptly withdrew them.

This wasn’t helping anyway.

He was extremely pale. His breath hitched in his throat.

What…just what had happened….? How had he got these marks…?

He glanced at the knife that was on the floor not far from him.

With a knife.

It was becoming harder and harder for him to breathe.

What could he possibly do now?

There was no one who could help him. He jerked slightly as his brain remembered.

The telephone number.

He hurried to grab the crumpled paper that he had left in his pocket. He uncrumpled it quickly and looked at it with shaky hands.

But he could already imagine how the couple would react. He knew how worried they had both been about George. And he didn’t want them to be even more worried.

But he couldn’t manage anything on his own…

He grabbed George’s body and moved it carefully so he could remove him from his lap. He laid it down carefully on the cold tiled floor.

And quickly, paper in hand, he went downstairs at the speed of light, ran to get to the telephone. He looked again at the piece of paper that had become bloody before he put it down and grabbed the telephone. He dialed the number with a shaky finger.

Normally, they shouldn’t take too long to respond. Unless they had already left. But then if they had already left, it meant they were on their way there, and that they should be back soon.

“Carl?”

He instantly recognised Mrs. Hopkins’s voice.

This meant they hadn’t left yet. He hoped it wouldn’t take them too long to get back there. He sincerely did.

“Komme! Quick!” He sounded totally panicked and desperate.

“What happened?”

“George!” He didn’t have time to try to explain. “Komme! Quick! Jeg beder dig…” _I beg you._

“Please, don’t panic. Stay calm. We’re coming, okay. We will get home soon.”

He remained mum.

“We’ll see you there, okay?”

“Okay…”

And with that, he hung up.

His body was still trembling. And his breaths were still heavy. He remained frozen in his spot. He did for a long while until he made his way towards the main door. He opened it and stood still on the threshold. And he just waited.

He really hoped they wouldn’t take too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! :) I hope you're all doing well 😊
> 
> I'm so sorry for not updating in ages...so I really hope the long wait was worth it...this chapter is around 2000 words, so why am I under the impression that it's much shorter? 
> 
> Anyway, I will update more quickly next time.
> 
> Take care and stay safe ❤️


	32. Chapter 32

They were at the hospital, the same hospital they had already gone to, waiting. Paul joined them not that long ago.

It was dead silent. No one seemed to be willing to speak. They were just waiting in anxiety.

Once again, the waiting seemed to be endless. But Paul was pacing up and down the hall as he had done in the room.

Mrs. Hopkins ended up breaking down at some point.

“Mum…” Paul got closer to her and put an arm around her shoulders.

“How could we not see that he was feeling so depressed to the point of ending his own life…?”

“Because he didn’t show anything. He just pretended it wasn’t so bad. We could’ve never foreseen he would do that.”

“No! We should have seen it, we should have been more present for him—”

“Mum, don’t start blaming yourself. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”

He started rubbing her back.

But it didn’t seem to be really helpful.

“But what if…—”

“No, Mum. Don’t. He’s gonna live. The only time he’s gonna die is when I kill him myself for what he did.”

“Paul…”

He suddenly hugged her tightly, whispering soothing words in her ear.

The doctor ended up arriving a little while later, and they all started walking abruptly to approach him before he could get near them. The distance was really short anyway. It was the same doctor they had seen last time, the one with the light stubble, the blue eyes like his own, the wavy brown hair neatly styled. The tie and the long white coat.

“How is he, Doctor? Is he going to make it?” Mrs. Hopkins asked, sounding completely panicked.

But the doctor didn’t look optimistic…he didn’t reply immediately.

“Let me be honest with you. He has lost too much blood already. And if he isn’t given a transfusion in the minutes to come, he’ll die soon.”

They were dead silent once again.

“We…managed to stop the bleeding though. So, tell me, is there one of you whose blood type is B- or O-?”

Again, silence.

“His father had B blood type…” Mr. Hopkins said. “But none of us either has B or O blood type…”

The doctor didn’t seem to be able to speak any longer.

“And what about the youth right there…What’s his blood type?”

The Hopkins family instantly turned around, and with the doctor, they were all staring at him.

“Carl…? We don’t know, actually, Doctor…” Mrs. Hopkins replied.

She was quick to get closer to him.

“What’s your blood type, Carl? Your. Blood. Type.”

He just blinked at her blankly as a response.

“I don’t think he understands what you want to know. ‘Could be that he doesn’t even know himself,” Paul interfered.

She turned her head to look at them.

“We can do a quick test to find out,” the Doctor suggested. “But we can’t wait too much, so we have to go now.”

“But…what if his blood type isn’t compatible?” Mrs. Hopkins asked. “What will we do?”

Silence, once again. This heavy silence.

“We have to pray that it will be, Madam.”

The doctor then approached them both.

“Carl, you’re going to go with the doctor, okay? For George. Don’t worry, everything will be alright,” she said as she rubbed his shoulder lightly.

But he didn’t react.

“What’s…I mean, is he alright? He doesn’t look really…willing to do it. I mean we can’t force him to give his blood if he doesn’t want to.”

“No, no, no, Doctor. There is no need to worry about that. I can’t imagine Carl refusing to do such a thing. He wants to save him as much as we do. He is just in a state of shock. He is the one who found George in the bathroom, you see…”

Again, he didn’t reply immediately. He just nodded in acknowledgement.

He stared straight into his passive eyes as he put one hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, it’s not about giving your blood for now. It’s just a quick test. So we can determine if you can be a donor.”

But he still didn’t react, didn’t even blink.

The doctor slowly withdrew his hand. He glanced at Mrs. Hopkins who gave him a small nod in return.

“This way,” he gestured with his arm, “Let’s go.”

He just followed the doctor placidly under the Hopkins’s silent gaze.

They ended up arriving in a room, a huge and white painted room. They stopped near a kind of raised mattress. The doctor gestured for him to sit on it, or was it to lay down?

He just sat on it silently. He wondered where George was exactly. Was he near them?

“It’s just a test, so don’t take fright.”

He was holding a strange kind of tube in his left hand. There was a needle at the end of it, like the kind of needle you use to mend clothes.

He put it down on a huge metallic tray and took something else instead. A piece of rubber. He approached him and took hold of his left arm before he fastened the rubber around it. He squeezed it way too much; it was really tight. But he didn’t complain or make a face.

Then the doctor examined his arm carefully. Then he ran a finger on it.

“This one will do,” he said solemnly before he let go of his arm and turned around, and quickly became busy doing something on the huge grey tray.

He turned back around with the tube in hand again. He took hold of the same arm again.

“You can close your eyes if you wish. It will just prick a little.” He glanced at him before he aimed the needle at his arm.

He flinched slightly at the foreign contact of the needle with his skin.

“Are you alright?”

Their eyes met and he gave a small nod. Rapidly, he noticed blood was filling the tube.

His body started shivering again.

Blood…all that blood…

His jaw tightened as he abruptly looked away. His heart caught in his throat again.

“Hey, are you okay little chap?”

He found the courage to glance at him and nodded again.

“Relax, it’s going to be alright. I’m not going to take much of your blood. I’m almost done.”

He still didn’t react.

He didn’t really understand what they were up to…what were they supposed to do with that? Was it for George? Well, who else could it be for?

“There you go. Your calvary is finally over. But if we’re lucky enough, it will start again soon…”

He could feel the needle being withdrawn from his arm, and something else being pressed against it, something much softer. He glanced curiously to see it was a cotton pad. The doctor quickly put something on it so he wouldn’t need to press.

“Don’t worry, the bleeding will stop fast. It’s only shallow.”

Then he removed the piece of rubber and put it away.

His shoulders loosened up and the shivering died down.

The doctor turned around again and did whatever he had to do. After a few moments, he turned back around and locked eyes with him.

“Just wait for me here, okay? I will be back soon.”

Karl just nodded, and he swiftly walked away. He just stared at the wall in front of him. And he waited silently, patiently.

*

“If Carl’s blood type isn’t compatible, he’ll die…!”

“Margaret, please, calm down. As long as we do not know for sure, there is no need to panic.”

She was just too horrified at the thought to think about calming down.

“Yes, Mum, Dad’s right. You should keep hoping. You’re the faithful one. So if you stop believing, we’ll all fall apart.”

“How can I keep hoping when there is one chance in a million that it will work?”

“Because your optimism is your strength. And you need it. We all do. Mum, just look at me. He won’t die today. Or anytime soon, okay?”

Someone suddenly cleared their throat.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins?”

“Doctor! So? Are they compatible? Will you be able to save him?”

But the look on his face told her that he wasn’t going to tell them what they wanted to hear…

“No…”

He unexpectedly smiled at her, a faint smile, but it was still a smile.

“We’re really lucky. The little chap has O- blood type. So this means the transfusion is possible.”

This was a real miracle. Paul had been right. She shouldn’t have doubted and lost her faith.

“Thank God. Thank you…”

The doctor’s smile widened a bit, but then it faded.

“I guess he’s underage though…Am I right?”

“Yes, he’s only eighteen years old. Is this a problem?” Paul inquired.

“Yes and no. I mean since he’s underage, I need his parents’ consent so he can give his blood, besides his own consent, but that’s another matter.”

This hadn’t even crossed her mind.

Why, my Lord, why?

They needed his blood to save him. To save a human life. Was this really more important than saving a sacred human life?

“You’re not his parents, are you?”

“No, but we’re like parents to him. They’re not here anymore. They left him in our care a few months ago…”  
She spoke without thinking at all.

She couldn’t take any risk. They could never save George otherwise. No matter if it meant lying to some degree. His life was much more important.

“Oh, I see…Erm…I’m sorry…”

“Please, just save George. That’s all we’re asking you. He is like a son to us too.”

She was growing anxious again, she could feel it.

“We will, Madam. We’re going to proceed to the transfusion immediately. I’ll leave you to wait here.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

She could only be relieved. He nodded at them before he left them.

She hugged her husband tightly. He must have been so relieved too, even if he wouldn’t show anything. He hugged her back, and they appreciated each other’s comfort. She could only smile.

Things would get better soon. They wouldn’t let things get to this point ever again. They could overcome all the obstacles and ordeals God put them through all together.

She knew it.

*

The doctor was finally back. But he didn’t look too reassuring. He couldn’t be about to tell him some good news.

“Well, little chap, I’m sorry for you, but your calvary is going to start soon again…but trust me, it will be worth it if you keep in mind that it’s only to save your friend.”

Friend…

“Friend…?”

“Yes, your friend, George, you know.”

“We’re not friends.”

The doctor looked like he was quite taken aback by his words.

“But you still want to save him, don’t you?”

“S-seive…”

The doctor suddenly kneeled down before him and put both hands on his legs.

“He needs your blood to keep living. You’re the only one that can save him. If you refuse to give your blood to him, he’ll die.”

Die…

“die…”

“Yes, die.”

What was that supposed to mean...? 

“Look, you and I are both alive, living. And George is almost dead.”

Dead…

They both remained silent for a while, staring into each other’s eyes.

“Doctor Spencer, we are ready for the blood transfusion.”

Karl turned his head to see who had said that. It was a female voice. A female voice that belonged to a woman that was probably in her late thirties, or early forties. Well, she looked younger than Mrs. Hopkins.

“Perfect. Thank you, Mary.”

He looked away from her. His heart skipped a beat. He started shivering again.

There he was. Lying in the same kind of bed he had been sitting on for eons. He was still unconscious. There it was again. The same awful and aching feeling in his stomach.

The doctor moved the bed, moved it so it would be next to his. Then he turned his attention back to him.

“You see, he’s still unconscious. If you want him to wake up, he needs your blood,” he touched the spot where the cotton pad still was.

His mind finally clicked.

They needed his own blood to replace all the blood he had lost.

“So—”

“Do it.”

The doctor stared at him with uncertain eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Do it,” he repeated.

He didn’t think twice, he just wanted it to be done.

“Fine. But you need to be aware that we will need much more blood than what I took earlier.”

“Do it,” he repeated again, but not curtly this time, rather placidly.

The doctor nodded.

“Let’s get started then.”

Soon enough, he was doing the same thing again, fastening the same piece of rubber around his arm, still as tightly as earlier, then he ran his finger on his arm, tapped the vein that was on his forearm.

“This one will do this time.”

Before he knew it, another needle penetrated his skin. He flinched slightly again.

“Just breathe, okay?” Their eyes met again. “You will both be alright.”

He nodded, again, and the doctor didn’t say anything else. Instead, he focused on the transfer of blood. He couldn’t see the blood being taken from him this time. The small tube was red/orange. But he could imagine it flowing through it. The shivering was back. He had to stop thinking about that.

His eyes landed on George’s sleeping face. Because it’s as if he were sleeping, right?  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Minutes passed, he couldn’t know how long exactly, but all he knew is that it seemed to be endless.

“I promise, this time your calvary will soon be over.”

Karl looked at him silently. He suddenly thought about something that was now intriguing him as he kept waiting.

If he gave George the equivalent of blood he had lost, it meant he would be in the same state as him, unconscious and almost dying…but…this didn’t make sense.

He froze, and his shoulders stiffened.

But then if someone had to give their own blood to him, it would be a never-ending circle… But at the same time, they wouldn’t be doing that if they knew this was going to happen to him too…

…………………

“There you go, little chap, this is over for good. Hopefully, this won’t happen again…” He said after another while. He muttered the last part, but it was still audible.

The needle was withdrawn from his arm like earlier, and another cotton pad was pressed against the skin instead.

He was feeling light-headed, and kind of dizzy.

“Are you feeling alright?”

He just nodded, but mechanically rather than to say he was really alright. Because he obviously wasn’t.

The doctor seemed to notice it because he was looking rather skeptical.

“You don’t look like you’re alright. Just lay down for a while, will you?”

He bent a little, started grabbing his legs, and held his shoulder with his other hand. He shifted his position so he would be lying down. He just let him do. He didn’t feel like moving at all anymore anyway.

“There is already your friend who’s still unconscious, so I’d like not to have you pass out.”

He stared at the white ceiling.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

He heard his footsteps, but he didn’t look.

“Is he going to wake up now?” He was surprised at how his voice sounded croaky and small.

He turned his head with difficulty and saw the doctor approaching him.

“He’s not going to wake up immediately. It’s too soon. It will take some time for him to wake up. But don’t worry, he’s safe now. He won’t die. His body just needs time to recover.”

He thought he would wake up instantly. Since he had a lot of his blood now, it should be all good. But apparently, it wasn’t that simple…

“Well, congratulations; you’ve just saved a life,” he saw the smile on the doctor’s face as he said that. “It’s really an amazing feeling, isn’t it?”

Save a life…huh… Well, never had he thought he would have been doing this one day. Giving his blood to someone else so they would be safe. It sounded a bit weird when he thought about it.

“Well, I’m going to let you rest for now.”

With that being said, he walked away.

“Mary?” He heard him call as he was getting further and further away. “Have we got some sugar?”

He turned his head so he was staring at the ceiling again. He could suddenly feel his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. The light was practically blinding him. And his mind became foggy. He struggled to keep his eyes open, even though it turned out to be quite hard.

What was wrong with him?

Now his vision was starting to become blurry. He struggled again and again, but he was feeling too tired to keep doing it.

Oh no; it was happening…

And he couldn’t do anything against it.

He let his eyes close themselves as the noises around him were fading out.

“Blød…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! :) I hope you're still doing well :) 
> 
> I'm having so much trouble writing and it's so frustrating...😞😩 And there's no one close to me I can talk to all about it...unfortunately...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter 😊
> 
> Take care of yourselves and your loved ones 💕
> 
> Lots of love


	33. Chapter 33

Karl’s vision went from pitch black to white.

He was feeling groggy, and couldn’t even remember what had happened before that. He guessed he just needed a little bit of time to get better.

His chest was crossed by a sudden and aching sensation, almost violent as he couldn’t tell where he was.

Could he be…

He sat up mechanically, a bit too abruptly maybe.

No, he couldn’t be.

He stared into space, stupefied. It was nothing familiar. It just looked ugly.

His foggy mind eventually cleared up after a while, and he blinked several times in a row as if it were going to make him remember everything in a flash.

He wasn’t in the Hopkins’s house, he was sure of it. No, he was at the hospital. He remembered everything.

Mr. Hopkins and Mrs. Hopkins leaving the house to go out in the evening. Him playing chess all alone. The bathroom door being locked. Him finding George unconscious in the bath tube. Him calling the number Mrs. Hopkins had written for him. Them arriving after a while and being horrified as they saw George’s unconscious body. And then going to the hospital very rapidly.

He swallowed not without difficulty.

These were things he’d rather not remember.

He checked his arms a bit instinctively and noticed the two cotton balls taped on his left arm. He remembered that too. The two needles in turn. How he gave his blood to save George.

He started slightly. Speaking of him, had he woken up?

They must have taken him to another room.

He just couldn’t understand, still not, why he had done what he had done…he didn’t think there had ever been something that had confused him more than that. It had never even crossed his mind that someone could do such a thing; so of course, he couldn’t understand the reasons behind the act.

The door unexpectedly opened, and he focused his whole attention on it. It was the doctor.

“Ah, you’ve finally woken up,” he seemed pleased as he spoke.

“George,” he didn’t even have time to think before the name fell out of his mouth.

He looked much less enthusiastic as he approached him.

“Unfortunately, he hasn’t yet. But he will! I’ve already told you not to worry about that, haven’t I? It’s just a matter of time.”

He nodded a bit sluggishly as a response.

“Let’s see how you are instead, shall we?”

Maybe he expected an answer, but Karl just contemplated him.

“Here, look, I managed to get you some things to eat. You need to regain some strength after what you went through. That’s not much, but we’re at war.”

He handed him said things. There was a small lump of sugar, two slices of bread, and a bit of cheese. But Karl didn’t even take them. He just stared at them with impassive eyes. He wasn’t particularly hungry. The doctor waited, patiently, but he seemed to figure out he wasn’t willing to take and eat them. He ended up putting them on the small table next to the bed.

“Listen, I know you may not be hungry in this kind of circumstances, but you need to eat. The point is not to make you vomit. Even if it’s only a little bit of something, it will still be better than if you eat nothing at all. Your body needs to recover as well. If you let your negative thoughts take advantage of you, your body won’t follow. Just keep this in mind.”

Maybe he should make an effort after all… Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins had already enough worries with George. He didn’t need to make them twice as worried by starving himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to lecture you. I think I’m getting you confused more than helping with all that talk. I just don’t want your state to get worse.”

First, he didn’t need to apologise, and second, yes, he should do that. But he preferred to wait for him to be gone, not that it was against him.

The doctor sighed as he glanced down.

“I know this is not the kind of thing that you can easily shake off your mind, but you’re not alone.” He put a comforting hand on his shoulder as he spoke.

He still didn’t feel like speaking. What could he have answered anyway? The silence was better when you didn’t know what to say.

“It may take some time, but you’ll be alright,” he tapped his shoulder in a friendly way.

“I’m going to leave you to rest some more. Then you’ll be able to go back with Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins.”

He withdrew his hand and stood up from the stool he had been sitting on, and then he walked away closing the door as he left the room.

Karl looked at the food that was on the table and decided to keep true to his word. He took one slice of cheese and started taking a small bite of it, chewing it slowly and carefully. 

He just couldn’t help wondering why. Why would someone do that to themselves, their body, why make the blood flow?

It was…terrifying and…disgusting.

But if that happened to George, that meant this also happened to other people…no… He didn’t know what to think anymore.

Life could be really strange sometimes.

*

George had not woken up yet, but at least he was alive, out of danger. Had he died he would have never forgiven himself for letting that happen. He had been very lucky. Many men had not been and still were not.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins.”

Robert looked up to acknowledge Doctor Spencer’s presence.

“Doctor!” Margaret spoke. “Is the news any better?” She still was concerned, but it was quite understandable.

“The little chap has just woken up. You may go and stay with him if you wish. He still needs some rest, but I especially think that he mustn’t stay alone.”

Poor Carl…he wished he had not been there to witness that…He had already had to leave his home and his family; he did not need to get caught in his family’s problems.

“Yes, of course,” Margaret was the one to reply. “Thank you for letting us know.”

“You don’t even need to thank me, Mrs. Hopkins. I’m only doing my job.”

“No, you are doing much more than this.”

That’s what he had always loved so much in her. Her unconditional love, kindness, and selflessness; her positive energy. That’s what had prevented him from drowning completely in bottomless and dark waters for all those years.

“I’d like to think I am. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to see.”

“Oh, yes, of course! We didn’t mean to hold you back and keep them waiting.”

We… Sticking together, becoming one, for the better and the worse…

“Robert…”

He turned around to face her and looked her in the eye. She still sounded concerned. He waited for her to keep speaking, silently letting her know.

“You should go and talk to him. You…you are the best person to do this.”

Why had he got a feeling that she should say that?

He licked his lips as he glanced away.

“I am not the best person to comfort him and find the words to reassure him. Even though I wish I could.”

She grabbed his hands swiftly and gave them a light squeeze.

“You can do it. I know you can.”

He knew she was only trying to make him feel better; she always did. But once things are broken, they can never completely be back to the way they were before.

“You know as well as I do that I cannot. You are just trying to talk me into thinking I can, as a form of reassurance, and to make me feel like I am not completely useless.”

She gave him that look. The look that always had him feel guilty deep down.

“You know I don’t like it when you speak that way.”

Of course, she did not. Why should she?

“The truth and reality are not pretty to hear and see most of the time.”

It would not leave her face.

“Please…”

How could he possibly refuse anything to her when she gave him that look?

He resigned to go. He just wished he wouldn’t make things worse than they already were.

He withdrew his hands, letting them slip out of her grip, and she did not oppose any resistance. He turned around and headed towards the room Carl was staying in. However, as he started walking away, he heard his wife call after him.

“Robert…”

He stopped his movement and shifted his position so he was facing her once again.

“What happened to George is not your fault…”

His chest and stomach both ached with that familiar sensation.

“Please…get this idea out of your mind…”

The feeling just intensified with those words.

He chose to remain silent for a few instants before he gathered in him the guts to find his voice.

“I was supposed to look after him. I promised Lewis I would; no matter what.”

He had failed. Miserably. He had let that happen under his roof. He had not been there for him as he should have; hadn’t known how to comfort him…he had not even been able to face him most of the time, out of cowardice or for seeing him in so much pain was something he could not bear. He was not exactly sure which one had dug the tremendous ditch between them. He could not put into words how ashamed he was feeling for that. He somewhat dreaded the moment when George would wake up. He would have some time to brace himself for this, at least.

He showed his back to his wife and resumed what he had started, without ever looking back. The way to the room was not that long. It took him only a few instants to get there. He knocked on the door, waiting for a response. But the more he waited the more likely it seemed that it would never come. He still decided to open the door, leaning forward to see Carl sitting in bed. He entered the room without any hesitation, closing the door immediately behind him.

Carl looked like he was there, but only physically speaking, a feeling he knew all too well. He approached him slowly, his eyes never leaving him as he did. He tried to think about what to say, but the words would not come to him.

“May I?” He asked once he was near him, nodding at the bed.

Their gazes met, and his blue eyes looked empty, and it almost seemed that they had turned into some kind of dull and dirty grey, their innocence stained by all the blood they had seen.

He only received a small nod as a response. He nodded back at him before he sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to squash any part of his body as he did so. It was not that big, but he preferred that to a stool.

They both remained silent as minutes passed. They did not look at each other as if they did so it would be awkward. Robert stoles several glances at him from time to time though. They both looked the same; lost, helpless, troubled, glum, lethargic.

Robert licked his lips once again. He still could not find the right words, the right way to talk about the matter smoothly. Yet, it was not something complicated that required intense cerebral activity. It just seemed so easy when Margaret did it. It was innate in her. But she had not seen the things he had seen.

He let out a throaty sound that resembled a sigh. But Carl did not even spare him one glance. Perhaps he was simply lost in thought, that was all. He had to say something, anything that could help. He did not like to see him like that. He breathed in and out as he thought that speaking spontaneously was the best way.

“This should have never happened. And you should have never seen that. But because of my carelessness, you did; and the memory will not be erased from your mind.”

This was not…what he should have said... If he only opened his mouth to say such things, it was pointless.

“But I promise I will not let that happen ever again. You must not worry about seeing this twice. I give you my word.”

It sounded like those empty words that you said because otherwise, you would not know what to say; nice, pretty words to give the impression that everything is alright when it is not, and he frowned slightly as the thought crossed his mind. But he meant them.

Was Carl even listening to him? He could not be sure.

He let out a sigh this time. He really could not hold it back. Instead of trying again, he wrapped one arm around the youth’s frame and held him tight against his side. He did not flinch or move to try to free himself. He still did not look at him. But it was not a problem. More time passed as the room was still filled with silence.

“There will always be hard times. But as long as you are here with us, we will face them all together.”

They remained in this position for long minutes during which none of them said a single word. There was nothing more to be added. Why make what is simple so complicated? Humankind liked making things complicated. It was part of their nature.

He knew they could not stay like this forever; but it seemed that neither of them wanted to break the embrace and that peaceful moment, for fear of loneliness and their demons. However, he ended up letting go of him.

“But maybe you’d like to stay alone for now. To get some more rest.”

He leaned his hand on the mattress so he could stand up. It was always so troublesome, but he had to do it. He rose on his feet rapidly anyway.

“No. Please. Stay.”

It was surprising to hear him say this, but the way he did was even more so.

The fear of being alone was written on his face. Those kinds of looks never lied. It made his heart clench tightly in his chest. He could not get rid of the guilt that was overwhelming him. He sat back in the same spot and held him close again.

“I will stay as long as you want me to.”

It was silent again after he said that, but such a thing could never disturb him.

“Tak,” Carl ended up speaking after a long moment of silence.

The word was hardly audible but sincere. And this mere word brought a smile to his face. It may not have been a wide, huge grin, but it was sincere as well.

Carl ended up falling asleep in the crook of his neck after long minutes, and he deemed it would be better to leave him to sleep in a correct position this time. He just needed to be careful not to wake him up. He looked like he was too tired to be woken up by the slightest movement anyway. He shifted his position and had him lie into bed. It was good that he could still sleep after witnessing such a horrifying thing. For he definitely needed it.

He left the room as discreetly as a ghost and was ready to join his wife when he came across Doctor Spencer.

“Ah, Mr. Hopkins. It’s good to find you here. I’d like to have a word with you.”

“Very well. You have my whole attention.”

“Well, you know, after what happened…I think it would be best for George to be sent to the psychiatric ward."

Well, it had the merit of being straightforward. But he preferred that to people that spun their speeches out. The longer it was the more irritating it would become.

“Do you not think it is a bit too extreme a measure, Doctor?”

He remained calm, unperturbed as he spoke. It was not necessary to get angry at this.

“Definitely not. A suicide attempt is not anodyne, and you can be certain that if it failed the first time, the person will try again. And this kind of…problem needs constant and supervised aftercare by medical professionals. In most cases, the relatives are overrun and don’t know what to do to help. I really think it’s the best solution for him. He will be taken good care of and will be safe there. And if everything goes well, he will be able to go back home soon.”

He understood there was not any bad intention behind his words, but he would not let George go there.

“I am sorry to contradict you, Doctor; but I do not think this will be the best for him. Do not take it personally. It is not against you. I know you are someone trustworthy, but I also know what will happen if I let him into your psychiatric ward, and I strongly disapprove of what will be done to him.”

The message was clear, and the silence somehow meant he knew he was right.

“Our methods regarding the psychiatric field have evolved since the last war, you know. We don’t want to harm him in any way. We only want to help him get better; you can trust me about this.”

He really did not doubt his sincerity, but this would not be enough to convince him. He wanted to stay by George’s side and be there for him, not leave him surrounded by people who had problems worse than his. This kind of environment would definitely not help him get better.

“Progress is a controversial concept. Look, after World War One, everyone said that it would be the last war and that peace would be achieved. And I do not think your methods have evolved that much in the last twenty years. But once again, it is really not against you. I thank you for wishing to help, but I know enough about trauma and loss to be able to take care of him on my own. Please, do not worry about this happening twice, because I will never let that happen again as long as he will still be under my roof; you can trust me about that.”

It seemed that his words left Doctor Spencer completely at a loss for words, for he looked a bit taken aback by them, almost shocked.

“I am sorry to insist Mr. Hopkins, but I know how difficult it is to take care of this kind of people.”

This kind of people… The wording was rather offending. 

“How do you?”

“My wife has been suffering from depression even before I met her.”

His words left him speechless. He was feeling guilty for showing so much animosity.

"I am sorry..."

"It's fine. Really. Well, if you don’t want him to go there, I can’t force you to change your mind, can I? And I know that you want him to get better more than I do.”

The small smile that came to his lips lightened it up a little bit.

“Thank you for your understanding, Doctor.”

He nodded at him before saying:

“If you have any problem, do not hesitate to call me or to come back, at any time.”

This was really the kind of doctor George could become later, and that mere thought warmed up his damaged heart.

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! :) I hope you are all still doing well in these hard times :) 
> 
> I'm sick...nothing serious, but I'm really not feeling well... It hadn't happened in ages😅😔
> 
> Take care 🥰💕And good night/good day wherever you are! 
> 
> xoxo


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